


Caring For Each Other

by audhds



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, But also lots of hurt and Dean whump, De-Aged Dean Winchester, Dean Angst, Dean Needs A Hug, Dean Whump, Dean is a cute four year old, Hurt Dean, Hurt/Comfort, Protective Sam Winchester, Sam Is Scarred For Life, Sam Is So Done, Sick Dean, Sick Dean Winchester, Sickfic, Tags Are Hard, This is so fluffy like OMG, Witches are bitches
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-13
Updated: 2017-03-21
Packaged: 2018-10-04 10:18:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 26,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10274750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/audhds/pseuds/audhds
Summary: When Sam and Dean get on the wrong side of a witch, it is Dean who comes off worst. After a spell causes him to regress into a four year old, Sam is left to pick up the pieces. With both brothers attempting to care for each other, things can only get better...surely?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone :D I hope that you enjoy this fic, updates should be every day, or every other day. Please let me know what you think x

Dean and Sam stumbled wearily into the motel room which they were currently calling home. The smell of damp immediately hit them and Sam grimaced, tightening his grip around his brother's waist. Even though Dean would never admit it, Sam was the only thing keeping him going, both physically and emotionally. Sam half-dragged, half-carried his brother over to the closest bed and helped prop up against the bedside table.

"Come on, stay with me Dean. Don't be a wuss." Sam tried desperately to keep his tone calm and relaxed but the sight of Dean's half closed eyes and pasty face caused his voice to shake slightly. He had never seen his brother look so awful, normally it would be Dean carrying Sam into the motel over his shoulder and patching it up. It definitely looked as if the roles had been reversed now.

"M'not. I'm F'ne."

"Sure you are. I have seen corpses looking better than you right now!"

"B'tch."

"Jerk." Both men shut up after Dean gave a piteous groan, his legs buckling. He would have crumbled to the ground if it wasn't for Sam grabbing his arms and hauling him upright.

"S'my. Wh're." Dean stared around wearily; his head was so fuzzy that he couldn't even make out the floor from the carpet.

"We're back at the motel Dean, just breathe for me." Dean humphed at this and would have rolled his eyes if he could muster the energy. His head felt as if it was being pierced with knives, hell, it had. His chest was burning and he wanted nothing more than to sink into the blackness of oblivion, but he had to stay awake for Sammy. He had to protect his brother.

"N't th't bad." Dean's voice was so quiet that Sam barely heard him and he half wished that he hadn't. Sam inwardly cringed, his brother sounded so pained at the moment and it was ripping his heart in two. He gently guided Dean down so that he was lying half sat up on the bed, gritted his teeth in determination and began to cut and peel Dean's torn and bloody shirt off. Dean bucked wildly and fisted the sheets as the fabric was torn from his cuts. Each movement of fabric being ripped from his skin felt like fire and Dean whimpered wearily and buried his head in his pillow, which smelt of damp and only served to make him feel worse.

"I know. Just breathe. I've got you now. Stop moving." Dean forced his body to remain rigid at Sam's comforting words and made a poor attempt of humour to distract himself. After all that was the patented-Dean way of trying to hide his pain, loss and confusion.

"N'w sh'rt."

"Don't be such a girl. I will buy you a new one tomorrow; anyway green was so not your colour."

"B'ch."

Dean closed his eyelids, squeezing them tightly shut in an attempt to distract himself from the intensifying pain in his ribs, God, what the hell is Sammy doing? Is he trying to butcher me to death? Sam's gently probing fingers felt like red hot pokers and Dean couldn't help but let out a short scream when Sam prodded a ridiculously long and bony finger into his ribs.

"Ahhhh."

"Sorry. Sorry. Oh God Dean." Sam withdrew his bloody fingers from Dean's chest when his brother let out another undignified cry of pain and instead began to comfortingly run his fingers through Dean's short, matted hair, trying to ignore the blood and sweat that now covered his hands. He quickly applied some steri strips to the two lacerations across his cheek and forehead.

Dean gave up all his attempts of hiding his pain and howled slightly, gagging at the pain and certain that he was about to pass out. He allowed himself to lean into his younger brother's touch and moaned when he felt the bed lurching beneath him. The motel was spinning around like a carousel, the scarlet of his blood on the sheets merging with the mould-green walls and the salmon pink carpet. Who the hell did the interior designing for this place anyway? Dean was well aware that his thoughts were no longer coherent and he couldn't find it within himself to care. When he felt his brother let go of him Dean felt an overwhelming sense of fear and loss, immediately scrabbling around with both hands to try and locate his only reason for living.

"S'm. d'nt l've." Sam turned at these words and his stomach clenched, _how can he think that I would ever leave him like this?_

"I'm right here Dean. I'm just getting something for the pain. I can't do anything with your chest until you have something for the pain. I will be right back I promise." He hurried back to the bed, grabbed his jacket, instructed Dean to keep a cloth pressed to the gash in his chest and sprinted out of the door.

"Alcohol. Alcohol. Alcohol." Sam began to mumble to himself in an attempt to jolt his brain.

_Where on Earth is a liquor store when you need one?_

Eventually settling on a 7/11 Sam grabbed the two largest bottles of whiskey that were available and pushed his way to the front of the queue. Now was not the time for manners. Ignoring the murmured insults from the other customers Sam slammed the whiskey on the counter, pulled out a fifty dollar bill and hurried off without waiting for the change.

Under five minutes later Sam rushed back into the motel room and over to Dean, opening the bottle with the edge of the bedside table and pressing it to his brother's dry lips. Dean opened his eyes few millimeters and immediately regretted it, groaning and forcing them shut again. He felt a cool bottle being pressed to his lips and began to suck gratefully, not caring that his brother was currently pouring liquid down his throat for him. It was rather undignified for the hunter, but he would let it slip just this once. A small dribble of alcohol slid down his chin, mixing with the stray tears that had escaped Dean's closed eyes.

Sam wiped the liquid away without comment with a calloused hand and gently stroked his brother's forehead.

"Better?" When Sam received no response he forced himself to look at the wound in Dean's chest. Sam grimaced at the grizzly sight. He was sure that none of his brother's ribs were broken, but there was extensive bruising and the gash was deep and long even if it was not life-threatening. He pulled out his first aid kit, knowing that he couldn’t afford to put Dean's pain first anymore.

If he left things any longer in an attempt to make Dean more comfortable, his brother would die from blood loss or get an infection.

"I'm sorry Dean but I am going to have to stitch you up. Just try and let go, get some sleep."

Dean shook his head slightly and moved his hand over his chest protectively. He knew he was being ridiculous and childish but it hurt so bad and he didn't think he could bare being stitched up at that moment in time.

"Dean, move your hand. Relax, I will be quick I promise." Without further ado Sam threaded a needle and with shaking hands he pushed Dean's limp arm away and began to make his first stitch. Dean flinched and writhed away from Sam's touch but with one hand Sam was able to push him back down with ease.

"Pl'se, don't."

Sam ignored his brother's pleading and continued with his task, pulling the needle in and out of Dean's flesh and crying softly at his brother's agonised moans. Dean scrambled weakly with his hands, trying to knock Sam away, but could barely raise them, let alone move Sam. With his last few moments of consciousness Dean began to plot numerous painful and drawn out ways in which he could kill the son-well-daughter-of-a-bitch-witch that had done this to him and then allowed darkness to swallow him. Surely Sam can cope for just one night.

Sam groaned in relief when his brother fell limp beneath him and no longer flinched at every movement of the needle. Ten minutes later he had finished the last stitch and was gently wiping the blood off his brother's stomach, chest and hair. He then tenderly lifted Dean into the other bed, which was not covered in sweat and blood and clambered in next to him wearily. He knew that Dean would never let this gesture go tomorrow and would accuse him of being a girl having chick-flick moment, but some things just have to be endured.

Sam rested his head on one of the pillows and shifted in an attempt to get comfortable. The bed was nowhere near big enough for two full-grown men, let alone the "sasquatch" and his muscley brother, but Sam just wanted to feel close to Dean that night.

_I almost lost him._

Sam bit back a small sob and rubbed his eyes angrily, Dean needed him for once and he was damned if he would cry whilst his brother was battling to stay alive. He still couldn't believe that such a routine hunt had ended so badly, it was all a blur at the moment and Sam couldn't work out how he and Dean had moved from walking together fully armed to Sam crouching over the form of his unconscious, limp brother, who had just been hit with some sort of spell and thrown into a glass table. In a fit of anger Sam had managed to injure the witch, who then fled from the house. However this did not do much to comfort him, as he was then left alone in a falling down hallway with Dean out cold. The next thing Sam knew he and Dean were hobbling over to the Impala and had made it back to the Motel.

Sam sighed and closed his eyes, willing the images of his brother in pain to disappear, which thankfully they did when Sam drifted into an uneasy sleep.

* * *

Dean woke up with a groan and glared at the tacky bedside-clock which displayed the numbers 03:46 in bright red glowing letters. Just what you want to see when you first wake up, glowing numbers in a pitch black room!

"You have got to be kidding me!" Dean slid out from his brother's grasp; _jeez Sam is practically hugging me, chick-flick or what?_ All thoughts of waking his brother up and taking the mick were eradicated when Dean felt a rush of nausea rise through him. White hot pain was searing through his chest and Dean fell to the floor twice before stumbling into the bathroom and shutting the door behind him, locking it before collapsing beside the toilet and vomiting violently.

"Ugh." Dean wiped his mouth and sat up slightly, regretting this when his head spun again, causing him to promptly throw up again. Deciding against any more movement, Dean rested the good side of his forehead on the cool toilet seat, germs be damned, and closed his eyes. _My head hurts like a mother…_

"Dean? Dean are you alright in there?"

_Great._

"P-peachy."

"Dean let me in. Are you bleeding? I thought I heard you throw up? Dude just let me clean you up a bit and get you back to bed."

"Leave m'lone. Feel f'ne." His body clearly disagreed with the last statement and Dean cried out when he felt yet another jab of white-hot searing pain in his ribs. The pain caused Dean to throw up again, and this time he didn't manage to aim into the toilet-bowl, instead he now had foul-smelling liquid all over his legs.

_Wonderful. Life just gets better and better._

"Dean!? Let me in right now or I swear to God I will shoot your sorry a…" Sam stopped talking mid-sentence when he heard Dean let out a shrill scream of agony followed by a loud thud.

"Dean? Are you ok? Open the fucking door, Dean." Once again there was no response and Sam began to pummel on the door with his fists. A minute later he heard a slight shuffling sound, like fabric being dragged along the floor and he stopped hitting the door. At least Dean was now going to let him in.

"Dean?" Sam frowned when the door handle didn't turn and he took a step back startled when a quiet knocking sound came from the other side of the door.

"Please open the door. You're scaring me." The knocking continued more frantically and Sam could have sworn that he heard Dean sniffle softly.

"Right, I've had enough of this. Stand back, I am knocking the door down." Sam waited until the shuffling stopped and with one kick the door flew open to reveal Dean curled up in a ball on the floor.

"You have got to be kidding me!" Sam stared down at the bundle of clothes which were hanging limply from Dean's shrunken form. A pair of emerald green eyes were staring up at him from underneath a floppy blonde fringe and the freckles on Dean's face stood out like black polka-dots against his pale skin.

His brother looked no more than four years old.

_This can't be happening. This really can't be happening. Shit…_


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the support so far! I hope that you continue to enjoy this story - please leave a review, I love hearing from you all!

"Dean?" Sam received no response from the terrified looking child in the corner of the room, so he rubbed his eyes in an attempt to make himself see things properly. When he re-opened them Dean looked just as frightened and worried as Sam felt. And he was still a child. _Well that really was wishful thinking!_

Colour seemed to drain from Dean's already pale skin and Sam just came to his senses in time to carry Dean back to the toilet where he began to dry-heave. Each movement shot more pain through the child's body and he let out a high pitched wail.

"Dean? You're ok. Easy now. Please don't cry, um. Don't worry, we are gonna sort this. Let’s just, um, well. Uh…" Sam allowed his speech to trail off as he stared down at the quaking child and wondered what they were going to do. Tears had begun to flow down Dean's cheeks and Sam could have kicked himself for not comforting his brother sooner.

"Come on Dean, it's not that bad. Let's just clean you up and we can sort this mess out in the morning." Dean just began to cry harder and wrapped his arms around Sam's legs, the only part he could reach. Sam could feel the child trembling against his trousers and despite the fact that Dean was covered in sick he picked him up and hugged him. He knew that if Dean was in his right mind he would have hit him right there and then for having a chick-flick moment and treating him like a child, but right now Dean was not in his right mind and all he did was bury his head in Sam's neck and cry.

_Now I really have lost it, why on earth am I hugging Sam? Get a grip Dean. Get a grip…oh great now I really am bawling! Friggin witch!_

"S'Okay. It is all ok Dean; you know we will sort it. That's what us Winchesters do. Here, let go and I will run you a bath." Dean pouted and stuck out his trembling bottom lip but did not protest further when Sam sat him down on the floor and ran a warm bath. When the bath was half-full Sam turned the taps off and looked at his brother awkwardly.

"Well, um, I guess you need to get undressed."

_You have got to be kidding me Sammy. Go away. Things are bad enough as they are. Jeez I cried and everything. I need to get a grip! I don't believe this. I am not a kid for god's sake. Leave me alone. Oh God I think I am going to cry again, what is with me at the moment? Fuck off!_

The watery glare that Dean shot Sam said it all, and the formerly younger brother turned and left the room reluctantly, sinking onto his bed and closing his eyes. He opened them just a minute later when he felt a very naked Dean tugging at his arm.

"Dean? What's wrong, why aren't you in the bath?" Sam averted his eyes from his brother and tried not to stare at all of the scars which littered the child, or the new wound which was red raw and surrounded by purple bruising. Somehow the marks seemed even more repulsive on a child's form.

"Can't."

"Um, why not?"

"Too small."

"Oh, right, I guess I should..." Sam scooped Dean up in his arms and deposited him gently in the bath, averting his eyes and reaching for some shampoo and conditioner. They both smelt foul but considering they were complimentary with the motel room Sam did not feel like writing a complaint. That was when he realised that Dean would not be able to reach the shower head. Without a word Sam took down the shower head and began to wash Dean's hair, ridding it of the remaining blood and sweat.

_Great. I can't even wash my own hair. Fan-freakin-tastic._

Dean couldn't help but let out a small moan when Sam began to massage shampoo into his hair, and to his horror he let out a giggle when Sam splashed water all over his T-shirt. A giggle. Dean Winchester most certainly does not giggle, as a child or not. The tiny child glared at Sam when he smirked at Dean's exclamation of pleasure and Sam forced himself to continue as if nothing had happened, he did not want to get any more soaked!

Dean grumbled meekly when Sam accidentally brushed over the laceration on his forehead and felt Sam squeeze his shoulder gently as a silent apology. Trying to distract himself, Dean stared at the tiles with mild interest, as an adult he would have never noticed the patterns on the tiles, but as a child everything was ten-times more interesting. However, his attention span, which had only just improved with age was back to being desperate. He soon found part of his brain willing himself to splash in the bubbles created by the shampoo and eventually this part won over the other part, which was telling him not to be so immature and to act like an adult.

Sam snorted with laughter when Dean began to bash the bubbles with tiny fists and scoop them up just to plunge his face in them. _Right, he's totally lost it! Dean with the body AND mind of a four year old. What have I done to deserve this?_

"Dean hold still! I am trying to wash your hair!" Sam was answered with a large splatter of bubbles to the face and couldn't help but burst out laughing at the look of pure joy on Dean's face.

_God he was a cute kid! Who'd have thought it?_

For a brief moment Sam wondered whether Dean had been this cute and happy having a bath when he was four the first time round and then felt tears well up in his eyes. Of course Dean hadn't been so happy to have a freaking bath. The last time he was four their mother had just died; he had watched their house, their family burn to ashes and had been given the weight of the world to carry on his shoulders. John probably never gave Dean a bath, with or without bubbles; Sam could imagine him roughly shoving the child into a grotty motel shower with mould in the corners and ordering him to 'get on with it'. He was certain that Dean never had the delights of playing with bubbles or having someone else wash his hair.

_"Take your brother outside as fast as you can and don't look back! Now, Dean, go!"_

Sam flinched when he remembered what Dean said their Father told him to do that night. He was four for goodness sake. What kind of four year old should be left with that amount of responsibility? What sort of four year old should be forced to care for his six-month-old brother, cook and clean for him when he himself was barely able to read and write, all whilst their father was out hunting demons? Sam swore angrily under his breath and vowed that he was going to give Dean the childhood he deserved, at least until they sorted things out and everything was back to normal.

Dean was completely oblivious to Sam's turmoil and was amusing himself by blowing bubbles into the air. _Maybe being a kid again isn't so bad, this is fun._ Dean couldn't help but enjoy himself; just one night of being childish wouldn't hurt. He would return to being a responsible adult tomorrow.

"Come on Dean, I think we are done now." Sam pulled the plug of the bath and grabbed a towel, wrapping it tightly around his brother, who he carried over to the clean bed.

"You can sleep in this." Sam pulled a T-shirt from the draw and helped Dean pull it on, trying to block out Dean's hisses of pain when the movements jarred his chest. It wasn't even as if he could give Dean more alcohol for the pain. He gently rubbed Dean's back, noticing how his spine protruded and hugged Dean close until he felt the exhausted child's breathing even out.

Sam lowered his brother down and pulled the blankets up over him, tucking him in tightly before lying down next to the boy and wrapping his arms protectively around Dean's skinny waist.

"Sleep well brother." Sam spent a good ten minutes listening to Dean's soft snores before eventually drifting into dreams of Dean looking after him as a child, Dean pushing him on a swing, Dean giving Sam him his own portion of Lucky Charms when Sam was still hungry, Dean running him baths and patching up every single cut or graze he sustained, Dean beating up bullies who picked on Sam and Dean reading him bedtime stories when he had nightmares…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what you think <3 You know how to make my day!


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you so much for the support so far! I hope you enjoy this chapter!

At 11 O'clock the next day Sam woke up and groaned. Well that was some messed up dream. _Dean giggling and playing with bubbles, what was I thinking? Oh no way…_ Sam had just opened his eyes, and there before him was Dean curled up in a tiny ball with one of his tiny fists resting on Sam's chest. Fine, definitely not a bad dream. Dean snuffled softly as Sam brushed a finger across his wounds before grabbing the first aid kit and rubbing some antiseptic cream on them before Dean woke up. It would sting like mad if he was awake and dealing with a stroppy, crying Dean was the last thing Sam wanted to do first thing in the morning. Carefully removing Dean's limp arm from his chest, where Dean had moved it again, Sam slid out of bed and made his way to the bath. He was halfway through shampooing his floppy hair when he heard a quiet knock at the door and Dean crying.

"S'mmy." Dean knocked again and began to sob harder. With a sigh Sam clambered out of the bath, wrapped a towel around his waist and opened the door, careful not to knock a crying Dean flying.

"Hey, what's up Dean? Do you need the bathroom?" Dean did not answer, instead choosing to fling his arms around his brother. Sam picked Dean up and held him close, rubbing his back in circles until the boy was reduced to sniffles and hiccups.

"Sammy l-left meeee." Dean wailed miserably and tears began to spill even faster than before.

"Come on Dean, I was just having a bath. I'm right here, I won't leave you."

"Did before." Those two words tore through Sam like a hurricane and he felt his legs wobble slightly, so he decided to perch them both on the edge of the bath. This was not the first time Dean had mentioned Sam leaving him behind in the last few hours and Sam knew this was a bad sign; normally Dean never revealed his insecurities, preferring to hide them behind a mask of jokes and drink. This really is a mess.

"Dean, I’m sorry that I left before, but I won't do it again, buddy. It's my turn to look after you, and I am damned if I mess it up. Are you hungry?" Luckily for Sam, Dean nodded hopefully, he clearly had not lost his appetite, especially considering that he had thrown up the entire contents of his stomach the previous night.

"How about pancakes?"

"Yes please Sammy!"

"Right, pancakes it is. You are going to have to wear another T-shirt though, we can say that you were sick on your other clothes, at least that is a half-truth." Dean nodded in acknowledgement and pulled on his favourite AC/DC top, which now swamped him and covered his legs like a nightie. Sam smirked again before taking Dean's hand reflexively and taking him down to breakfast. He knew Dean was an adult and could take perfectly good care of himself, well, could keep himself alive anyway, but the idea of not keeping a close hold on a child seemed wrong.

_Sammy, what in God's name do you think you are doing? Let go of my hand!_

Dean struggled to extricate himself from Sam's grip but failed miserably and gave up when Sam instructed him to play along with it so that they looked like a normal family. _Well that really is a joke, us a normal family, that takes the biscuit!_ Dean didn’t bother voicing his argument and clung obediently to Sam as they walked into the breakfast room. Everything seemed so surreal from this level, the tables seemed to loom over Dean and the presence of every adult felt like a threat. Sam could feel that Dean's hand was clammy and could feel his brother shaking softly.

_Well this is just plain weird, Dean's brain seems to have de-aged as well, or at least the less stubborn part of it anyway…_

"S'okay Dean. Don't worry." Sam led Dean over to the continental breakfast table and grabbed a couple of packs of cereal, Special K for himself and Lucky Charms for Dean. It somehow seemed appropriate.

Dean did not pick up on the irony of the role-reversal and glared at Sam, who simply shrugged, opened the cereal, poured it into the bowls and added milk.

_Lucky Charms, just 'cos my body is small doesn't mean I need to eat little-people food._

Dean glared at his bowl for a while before eventually scooping up a spoonful and guiding it to his lips. However, his hand seemed to have a mind of its own and he missed his mouth completely, leading to a dollop of gunge landing on his shirt. _Life gets better and better!_ Sam grabbed a napkin from the neighboring table and wiped Dean clean, then returned to his own bowl. He knew that Dean would flip if he tried to feed him.

Sam tried to ignore the weird looks he was getting from the other motel guests, a couple of builders, one very miserable-looking businessman who seemed to think the motel was beneath him and a couple who were making out behind a broadsheet newspaper, which was upside down. They probably thought that Dean was his son and that Sam was neglecting or worse abusing him, the bruising and cuts certainly did not look good and the over-sized top Dean was wearing was not doing Sam any favours. Next thing, shopping.

Dean had finally managed to finish his cereal and was smiling in triumph. Although he would never admit it the Lucky Charms tasted amazing. His taste buds clearly favoured artificial flavourings again rather than real food.

"You ready for pancakes?"

"Yes!" Dean beamed despite himself and had to bite back the urge to skip to the pancake maker. Sam allowed him to pour the mixture in, guiding his hand like Dean used to do for him, and they waited until there were three pancakes for each of them.

Sam drizzled his with one small pot of maple syrup and watched amused as Dean smothered his with five pots as well as chocolate sauce and sugar. _Wonderful, now I am going to have to contend with a hyperactive four year old._

Dean dug into his pancakes with renewed enthusiasm, although most of the sauce didn't make it to his mouth, drizzling down his bare arms and smearing around his lips. Sam groaned when the business man wandered past muttering something about E-numbers and proper healthy diets. There was no pleasing some adults, but at least Dean was happy.

"Is that nice then?” Dean nodded through a mouthful and pancake and grinned, revealing a half chewed mouthful mainly consisting of chocolate sauce. Gross. “Just don't make yourself sick." Sam raised a skeptical eyebrow in Dean's direction but the child decided to ignore him. Once they had both finished Sam picked up a rather sick looking Dean and carried him back to the motel room where he attacked the child with soap and a flannel.

"Dean, stay still. Stop wriggling! This is ridiculous, stop acting like a four year old for one minute."

"But…"

"No buts. Right we are going shopping."

"But Sammy, I hate shopping!"

"What did I just say about no buts?!" Dean scowled.

_Sam knows how much I hate shopping. He doesn't have to treat me like a kid. I'm so gonna kick his ass in a minute._

"Don't make me ground you!" You wouldn't dare!

"S-sorry Sammy." _Where did that come from? God brain, I do not apologise! Oh great now my eyes are watering again. This is ridiculous!_

"Look, I'm sorry alright but we need to get you some new clothes and maybe I can get you something to play with." Sam tried desperately to appeal to the childish part of Dean's mind and it thankfully seemed to work because Dean smiled, full on dimples and all. His cheeks, which were less chiseled than before, flushed with excitement and before he knew it Sam was being dragged to the Impala.

"All right buddy. Calm down."

Dean made the mistake of walking to the wrong side of the car, attempting to climb into the driver's side before realising his mistake, climbing out and walking around to the passenger side with his head hanging low. Sam sighed internally and helped to do up Dean's seatbelt before his own.

"How about some music?" Sam attempted to lighten the mood with a Metallica cassette but Dean still looked pensive even with 'The Day That Never Comes,' 'The Unforgiven III' and 'My Apocalypse' blasting from the car stereo.

"We will fix this Dean. It has only been one night and one morning, we will sort it out soon I promise." Dean smiled sadly at Sam.

"Ok." _God I want things to go back to normal. This sucks ass._

When they pulled into the parking lot and Sam had unclipped Dean's seatbelt they made their way into the store, ignoring the weird looks they received once again. Well, he tried to ignore the weird looks until one particularly matronly, plump woman made her way over and placed a hand threateningly on Sam's shoulder.

"Why is your child covered in cuts and bruises?" Sam was startled by her nerve and bluntness but answered out of habit.

"He fell off a slide at a play area. Not that it is any of your business." The lady scowled before turning her attention to Dean.

"Hey there little man." Dean flinched even though the woman had taken on a much friendlier tone, if only she realised how accurate her pet name was. "Is that what really happened? You can talk to me, you are safe."

Dean clung to Sam's T-shirt partly to strengthen their act and partly for comfort. Well this woman is an A-grade asshole.

"Fuck off!" Dean blinked as he realised what he had just said…four year olds are not supposed to swear. Sam also realised the situation and immediately took on the tone that John had used on them.

"DEAN! Have I bought you up to use filthy language like that?"

"No. Sorry." Dean quickly tried to make amends for his mishap and blushed at the filthy looks other customers were shooting at him and Sammy. _This is awkward…_

"You clearly are not taking good care of your child if he is using language like THAT. Anyway, is that what really happened to you? Is that how you got hurt sweetie?"

"Yes. I fell and Daddy took me to the doctors. I got a sticker and everything for being a brave boy!" Dean gave one of his most charming smiles and looked up at Sam who ruffled his hair.

"Oh, well why is he not wearing proper clothes then?" _This woman just doesn't give up._

"Someone ate too many pancakes with maple syrup and chocolate sauce this morning. His tummy clearly didn't agree with it. My poor lad spent half of the car journey throwing up on himself and this was the only clean item in the boot."

"Hmmm." The woman finally seemed convinced, turned and walked away without another word.

"What a bitch!"

"Sammy?"

"Yes Dean."

"F-feel sick." The conversation about throwing up and pancakes had caused Dean's tummy to churn and Sam only just managed to get Dean to public loo and sink before the child was throwing up miserably. Dean's stomach was not what it used to be! Sam sat Dean on the counter and grabbed some toilet roll, mopping the sweat off Dean's face and the vomit from his mouth.

"I told you maple syrup and chocolate sauce was not a good idea." Sam did not have the heart to scold Dean further as he began to dry heave and cry in pain. Every heave was sending agony sparking through his chest wound.

"H-h'rts" Dean managed to gasp between heaves and sobs.

"Shhhh. It's ok. Try and breathe for me."

A man who had been in a cubical washed his hands quickly before walking up to Dean and Sam.

"Do you want me to get anything for your kid? Some water?"

"Yes please. That would be great, thank you so much." The man nodded and came back moments later with a bottle of water and some Calpol.

"I thought this would help, the poor lad seems to be quite distressed." Sam nodded gratefully and pressed the bottle to Dean's lips, all the while rubbing his back.

"Do you think you can keep this down?" Dean nodded and drank the sweet, gloopy liquid that Sam had poured into the lid of the bottle.

"Do you need anything else?" The man was hovering uncertainly behind the brothers and seemed slightly uncomfortable.

"No thank you. He will be fine in a minute. He's just had a couple of rough days."

"Well I hope he gets better soon." The man left the room and Dean let out a small whimper. _Ow, ow, ow. I am so gonna kill that witch. Slowly._

"You ready to go now?"

"Yes." Dean was trembling but managed to keep upright when Sam lifted him down from the counter and placed him on the floor. Sam cleaned up before opening the bathroom door and leading Dean over to the children's clothing.

"What takes your fancy?" Dean stared around the boy's section before walking over to a tiny leather jacket and handed it to Sam, who grinned.

"Very cute!" _I am not cute!_ They spent half an hour picking up and trying on clothes before both Dean and Sam were dead bored.

"I think we are done now. This should keep you going."

"Ok Sammy." The brothers were halfway to the till when Dean began to tug at Sam's sleeve and point at the toy section.

"Sure thing, what do you want?" Dean beamed and hurried over to an aisle filled with stuffed toys, there was something about the bright colours that caused his four-year-old-brain to snap into action and before he knew it Dean had picked up a pastel-blue, polar-fleece rabbit.

_Why am I holding this? I am not a girl! Why do I want this…it's so cute…Dean get a hold of yourself, you do not do cute…it's fluffy…No…_

Dean groaned when he found his hand holding the toy rabbit to Sam. _Oh brill, now I look like a complete weirdo._

Sam smiled at the mixed expressions on his brother's face, one moment he was smiling cheerfully and the next he was frowning and muttering as if he was talking himself out of something. He guessed that Dean was embarrassed for wanting the toy but before he could put it back Sam placed the rabbit in the trolley. If it was what Dean wanted he could have it, girlie or not, who was he to judge?

"Anything else?" When Dean nodded Sam helped him pick out some puzzles, a toy Impala and a couple of colouring books-complete with crayons. Dean was smiling happily, walking with one arm wrapped around Sam's leg to keep him close.

The incredibly busty blonde cashier grinned at Sam and Dean.

"Is this little cutie-pie your son?" _Hell no! Nobody calls me a cutie, even if they are fit, I wonder what she is like in bed…oh yeah I am in the body of a four year old…damn!_

"Yes his name is Dean."

"Why hello there Dean. This is a very cute bunny! What's his name?" The lady scanned the barcode before handing the toy to Dean, who grabbed it and hugged it despite himself.

"James." Dean blurted out the first name that came to his head; did I really just name my rabbit after the lead singer of Metallica? I am going mad!

"What a sweet name. Well I hope you have lots of fun with James." Dean nodded and rested his head against Sam's leg to signal that he was a) tired and b) wanted to go before this situation got any more embarrassing. Sam took the hint and paid swiftly before grabbing the shopping bags and leading Dean out of the shop and into the Impala.

"Right, let's go back to the Impala. I'm going to ring Bobby when we get back and let him know what has happened. Maybe he’ll know how to fix this. Then we can pick up our stuff and check out of the motel." Sam felt slightly better now that he had a plan of campaign and he ruffled Dean's hair reassuringly. He half expected Dean to pull away or flinch away from the touch but instead Dean lent further into him for a hug.

"You're not getting all soppy on me are you?"

"No!" Dean's indignant response just confirmed the fact that Dean was indeed being soppy, but Sam just accepted it and cuddled his brother back before slipping into the car and driving them both to the motel. When Dean was settled on the ground colouring in a picture of a bus (at least he was now easily amused) Sam picked up the phone and dialed Bobby's number.

Well this should be an interesting conversation…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you again for your comments and kudos, they mean the world - please let me know what you think xxx


	4. Chapter 4

"What do you mean a four-year-old?" The gruff voice down the other end of the phone sounded pissed off and tired, never a good combination when it came to Bobby Singer.

"I mean he is currently sitting on the floor cross-legged colouring in a picture of Thomas the Tank Engine with crayons."

"Crayons?"

"Yes, brightly coloured sticks of waxy stuff that always snap in two…I have already had to deal with one tantrum when Dean's yellow broke. And Thomas isn't even yellow, he's blue!"

_Right that's it, Sam has lost the plot! Probably one too many concussions._

Bobby did his best to keep his voice level and reasonable. _Why in God's name can't the Winchesters ring me at a normal time? Ok maybe it is 1 O'clock in the afternoon but last night was wild and I have the headache from hell to contend with. This is the last thing I need, bloomin Winchesters!_

"You mean to tell me that Dean got himself zapped into a child yesterday?"

"Congratulations! Now what do I do about it?"

"Don't you take that tone with me Sam Winchester. I guess you should come round and spend some time with me until we sort this out. I'll have a look in my books. When will you get here?"

"Um, around 10ish?" Sam tried to sound apologetic. He was just so tired after everything that had happened and trying to keep Dean happy. Well as happy as he could currently be.

"See you then. And Sam…"

"Yeah?"

"Don't let your brother do anything stupid."

"Would I ever?"

"I won't even deign to answer that question." Bobby hung up with a grunt, took off his cap, ran his hand through his hair and put his hat back on again. _Bloody Winchesters!_

 

"Come on Dean, we need to go now!"

"But my chest hurts!"

"I can't give you any more Tylenol, you can take more in…" Sam checked his watch and his heart sank. "Just 47 minutes." It really tore him up to see Dean in pain whilst knowing that he was unable to do anything about it.

"Whisky? Please? Saaaaaaaam!" Dean's voice had taken on a high winging tone despite Dean's attempt to handle the situation in a calm, adult manner. _Why wont he just give me the booze, I’m not literally four._

"Shh. I am not giving a four year old alcohol! What kind of carer would that make me?"

"You're not Dad!" Dean scowled at Sam, his green eyes blazing. Normally that look would have demons quaking in their boots (or claws) but right now Dean just looked darned cute.

"Tell me about it. Come on, lets just get into the Impala, time will fly. I promise." Sam couldn’t bring himself to be harsh or scold Dean for his behaviour, although he couldn't help but wonder whether he had been so miserable when in pain as a child.

"You're bossy."

"Dean!" Sam's voice had now taken on a warning tone.

"Ok." Dean whimpered softly as he stood up, but for once his inner adult won over after that, he refused to cry in front of his younger brother again. The situation was already humiliating.

With everything packed in the boot and the back of the Impala, and with Dean wrapped in a blanket cuddling James, Sam pulled out of the motel car-park and started the eight and a half hour drive to Bobby’s.

Thankfully, after 15 minutes of discomfort, Dean fell fast asleep with his thumb in his mouth, and if this had been any other day Sam would have taken a picture to gain revenge for the spoon incident. Today, he really didn't have the heart. Dean's brow was slightly furrowed and the cut on his forehead was oozing blood again due to Dean knocking it on the car window when he first drifted off.

At least he was no longer begging Sam for pain medication.

It was really tearing him up to see Dean so vulnerable, normally he would never let Sam know if he was bleeding to death, now he was bursting out into uncontrollable sobbing at the gash in his chest, which although painful was nowhere near as bad as some of his previous wounds. After three hours of driving in relative peace Sam was notified that Dean was awake by a short cry of pain.

"Hey sleepyhead."

"Sammy?"

"Yeah?"

"It really hurts." Dean scowled when the words came tumbling out of his mouth without his brain's permission; he had to stay strong for Sammy, not act like a complete baby. Suck it up Dean. Just suck it up. Dean groaned and let his head fall back against the seat.

"You can have some more medicine now." Sam pulled over into the next lay-by and grabbed the Tylenol from the glove department, pouring some into the cap and tilting it into Dean's open mouth.

"Thanks Sammy."

"Anytime. We still have another 4 hours, I took a few shortcuts to cut down the time but I'm afraid we still have a long way to go. Why don't you try and get some more sleep?"

"I'm not tired."

"Shall I get your colouring book?" When Dean nodded, Sam grabbed a dot-to-dot book which he had bought at a gas station when Dean was locked in the car sleeping. He handed it to the child next to him with a small smile.

Dean beamed when he saw that Sam had bought him something new to play with and began to join the dots clumsily. The only issue was that every time he showed his work to Sam, Sam had to act incredibly impressed and not point out the fact that 5 came before 6, not after 8. Dean however didn't seem to mind that his cat looked more like a mutant cross between a wendigo and a dog, and was colouring with a look of intense concentration on his face.

Dean knew that he should not be enjoying the activity so much, he was in his late twenties for goodness sake, but there was something satisfying about colouring in his drawing. The childish part of his mind kept taking control, preventing Dean from brooding about the fact that Sam was driving his baby, which was probably a good thing.

Sam mentally shook himself when he realised that he was spending more time concernedly glancing at Dean than concentrating on the road, although Dean was still colouring his increasingly knotted scowl revealed to Sam that he was not particularly enjoying himself anymore.

"How about some music?"

"Yes please."

"Led Zeppelin?" Sam hated that kind of music, but just this once he would willingly put it on, anything to cheer up his brother. Soon Dean was bobbing his head to 'The Battle of Evermore'…at least someone was happy.

Dean shuffled in his seat so that he was cross-legged and absentmindedly stroked his toy's ears. He was bored rigid and didn't want to colour anymore.

"I finished colouring. I want to go home, I’m bored."

"Me too, I’m sorry, Dean, but there’s nothing I can do about it."

"How much longer?"

"Just half an hour. Go back to sleep."

"It hurts too much! And m'not tired." Dean's body decided that would be the perfect moment to yawn…loudly, and Dean groaned in defeat before resting his head against the window and falling asleep again.

_I swear the Tylenol should have lasted longer than that. At least he is asleep again, it can't be that bad otherwise Dean wouldn’t be able to sleep, and would still be crying. Anyway, what is with Dean and driving? I am bored, stiff and fed up…where is the enjoyment in that?_

Dean let out a small snore.

"Not tired my ass!"

…

By the time Sam pulled into Bobby's drive he was suppressing his own yawns.

He got out of the car and grabbed the bags from the boot before shuffling to Bobby's door and knocking. After the sound of several locks being undone the door swung over to reveal Bobby, who gave Sam a quick ‘man-hug’ and took half of the bags, dumping them in the hallway.

"Where is he then?"

"Fast asleep in the car, one moment and I'll grab him." Sam turned and hurried back to the Chevvy, gently opening the door, undoing Dean's belt and pressing the child to his chest and resting Dean's head on his shoulder. He absentmindedly ran his hands through Dean's blonde hair and breathed in the comforting scent of his conditioner.

Bobby's eyes widened momentarily when he registered Dean’s tiny form, but beckoned for Sam to come in and sit himself down in the lounge without further ado. Once Sam had lain Dean down on the stained sofa and covered him with a threadbare blanket, he turned to Bobby and resisted the urge to cry.

"I don't know what to do Bobby, what if I can't turn him back?"

"Don't worry, Sammy" Bobby smiled reassuringly at the lad who he had come to see as a son and pulled out his hipflask, tossing it over to Sam. Sam gratefully glugged at the liquor, which burned its course down his throat and filled him with fire. And a bit more Dutch courage!

"Have you found anything that might help?"

"Not yet, but these things take time. What will be will be." Sam was sure that there was some deep philosophical meaning to that statement, but at that moment in time he could not work it out.

"Anyway, I’m starving, help me with dinner." Sam glanced at Dean, who was snoring softly, before exiting the room, leaving Bobby to squeeze Dean's shoulder gently. The poor boy had been through far too much, and it was nice to see him relaxed and at ease rather than bleeding out with an unconscious Sam over his shoulder. Bobby mentally shook himself, there was no good getting all sentimental, Dean would have to be returned to normal and he was blown if he knew how to go about it.

…

Once there were three bowls of lamb stew on the table, accompanied by a weary looking Sam, Bobby went into the other room and gave Dean's shoulder a gentle shake, remembering that Sam had told him Dean's chest was in a bad way.

"S'mmy?"

"Guess again."

"Bobby!" Dean's eyes lit up when he saw his non-biological-uncle and before Bobby knew what was happening he was being cuddled. Well as cuddled as possible considering Dean couldn't get his arms around Bobby's considerable waistline. Bobby realised that Dean felt hot, but ignored it, blaming the blanket that Dean was wrapped up in.

"Hey Dean. How ya fairing up?"

"Ok."  _Awful!_

"Glad to hear it. Dinner is on the table, Sam's waitin."

"Do you need the bathroom first or anything?"

"I already go’ed before." Bobby nodded, relieved and watched as Dean finally let go of him and walked slowly into the next room, stopping and leaning against the wall when searing hot pain shot through his chest again.

"You alright kid?" Bobby never missed the signs of a hurt Winchester, although they never admitted it, there were always signs. Admittedly the signs were usually said Winchesters collapsing from blood loss or being unable to walk any further.

Sam had also sprung to his feet concernedly and had knelt down in front of his brother, lifting up his shirt and checking the wound before Dean could even think about stopping him.

"Shit, it looks infected. Dean how long has it hurt this much? You’re burning up!" Dean buried his head into Sam's shoulder and began to sway alarmingly.

Meantime, Bobby had realised what was wrong and had grabbed his first aid kit, pulled out some medicine and handed Dean a capsule.

"Is that safe for kids?"

"Of course it is, he just needs a lower dosage than normal. It should help reduce the fever." Dean took the capsule which Sam now handed him and swallowed, grimacing when he nearly choked. _Now that is why children have liquid meds. Ugh I feel like crap. Shoulda told Sam earlier._

"Do you think you can eat something?" Sam picked Dean up and settled him at the table, scooping up some stew and holding it to Dean's lips.

"I don't want it. Not hungry." Dean began to turn away but when Sam gave him the puppy-dog eyes he opened up and swallowed. _I feel sick. Please stop making me eat!_

"Come on Dean, just a bit more." Dean shook his head weakly before going pale and throwing up the few mouthfuls of stew that he had managed, all over Bobby's floor.

"It's ok Dean. It wasn't your fault. Sorry I made you eat." Dean stared at the floor, feeling tears well up in his eyes again. _Why am I so useless? Ugh…_ He began to dry heave miserably and it took both Sam and Bobby half an hour to clean Dean up, comfort him and finally lull him into a deep sleep. Luckily Bobby had some experience with young Winchester - one time John had dropped them round with chicken-pox and he had learnt that rubbing the children’s backs and rocking them gently usually worked. After proving this theory with Dean, Bobby began to pick at a loose thread on the cushion, pondering their situation. Dean was curled up in a ball on Bobby's lap, mouth wide open and drooling on Bobby's sleeve.

"Oh great…that is disgusting." Bobby had finally felt the wet fabric against his skin and groaned, pulling out a tissue and wiping Dean's mouth and his arm. Sam had to muffle his laughter in another cushion when he saw Bobby's reaction to being slobbered over, you would have thought that Bobby would be used to grime by now.

"Shut it you!" Bobby lifted Dean up gently and deposited him on Sam's lap.

"There he can drool on you now."

"Hmm, as appealing as that sounds I think I will take him to bed. Night."

"Night Sam." Sam lifted Dean up and cradled him to his chest before trudging upstairs to the twin room that Bobby always saved for them. He laid Dean down on one of the beds and lifted his top, applying some antiseptic to the deep gash and checking over the stitches before rubbing more onto Dean's cheek and forehead. His skin was still far too hot, but Sam hoped that the fever would sort itself out in a couple of hours. He placed a wet flannel on Dean's forehead in an attempt to cool him down before tucking Dean in, hoping the blankets would help the fever break.

Once done he tucked Dean in, gave him a light kiss, _ok that was weird, note to self, Dean will shoot me if I do that when he is awake,_ and made his way to the bathroom. He stared into the mirror and did not like what he saw. His usually glossy, flowing hair was slick with grease and there were dark purple bags under his eyes. Sam sighed before clambering into the shower and washing his hair, relishing in the feel of hot water trailing over his skin. Once he was done, and resembling a prune from staying under the water for so long, Sam pulled on a clean t-shirt and boxers before slumping into bed, he didn't even bother to lie under the blankets; he was asleep before his head hit the pillow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please let me know what your thoughts, your comments make my day :D


	5. Chapter 5

Sam awoke to the sound of his older brother's distressed breathing. Dean was panting heavily and coughing so deeply that tears were streaming down his face. Sam glanced at the clock, it was only 9 at night, and they had been asleep for just an hour.

"Shit. Dean, Dean?" Sam jumped off his bed and ran to his brother's side, quickly pulling a thermometer out of the first aid kit on the bedside table. He quickly placed it in Dean's mouth, cringing when his brother's coughing intensified and he thrashed to remove the intrusion. Sam held him still and eventually removed the thermometer, causing Dean to gag and gasp for breath.

"103.1…Shit, BOBBY!" Sam knew this wasn't good, but far from it, and yelled at the top of his lungs for Bobby, who stumbled into the room in a set of flannel pyjamas.

"What is it you idjit? You scared the life out of me!" His face fell when he saw the state that Dean was in. "What's wrong?"

"His fever. It wasn't that bad…I didn't think... Oh God." Sam threw the sheets off of Dean and took his new pajamas off leaving Dean in his boxers, staring at the chest-wound which was swollen and red. He gently placed two fingers on the bruising around the gash, feeling that the skin was far too hot and eliciting a whimper from Dean.

"It's got worse." Sam stated the obvious and took the bottle of Tylenol which Bobby passed him, pouring the pills and some water into his brother's mouth before allowing Dean to drink more. Dean struggled frantically and began to scream; his eyes were unfocussed and seemed to be terrified by something in the corner of the room.

"No. No. No!" Dean began to wriggle wildly, hunching over and pointing at the empty room with sheer terror pasted across his face. Sam felt tears pricking in his eyes and blinked them back, rubbing Dean between the shoulder blades and supporting him in attempt to make the child's breathing easier.

"There is nothing there Dean. It's not real I promise." Dean continued to scream, ignoring his protesting throat and tried to get away from the monster that was clinging on to his arms.

Sam tightened his grip around Dean's elbows and tried to calm him and stop the thrashing child, but this only made Dean cry harder.

"Sam, let go of him, he's hallucinating god dammnit. Just make sure he doesn't hurt himself, I am gonna run him a bath so we can get him cooled down before things get any worse." He stumbled blearily into his personal bathroom, the one Sam and Dean used didn't have a bath. He groaned slightly at the bright bathroom light, _I knew that I would regret all that whiskey at some point_ , and began to half fill it with luke-warm water. He didn't want to cool Dean down too quickly and was about to fetch some clean towels when he heard Sam's frantic call for help.

"Sam?" He hurried back into the room as fast as possible and blinked horrified at the sight that met his eyes. Dean's entire body had gone rigid, he was stiff as a board and Sam was desperately trying to talk to the boy. That was when Dean's eyes rolled, revealing just whites under his half-opened eyelids and his arms and legs started to twitch and jerk.

Bobby sat down on Dean's other side and firmly held Dean's left arm and leg down whilst Sam took his right side, trying to prevent Dean from hurting himself further. The poor child was sweating profusely, his breaths coming in sharp, painful pants.

Four minutes later, Dean finally stopped convulsing. His face was a pale shade of gray, he was covered in a sheen of sweat. Sam momentarily averted his eyes when he realized that his brother had wet himself.

"Dean, can you hear me Dean?" Sam gingerly propped his brother against his own chest and could still feel the heat radiating off him. Dean was staring up at him wide-eyed and confused and was shuddering uncontrollably despite his temperature.

"We need to get him cool." Bobby knew that Sam was about to break down and decided that John-esque instructions might cause the younger brother to snap out of it and help Dean. It seemed to work.

"Pick him up, support his head, come on Sam. Take him to the bathroom. Quickly." Bobby began to bark orders whilst Sam nodded numbly and carried his brother into the bathroom and gently laid Dean into the cool water, ignoring the child's scream of protest. He lent over the bath and wrapped an arm under Dean's armpits to keep his head above the water. Dean's tight grip on Sam's shirt was beginning to slacken and suddenly released, he had gone completely limp and slid a little further into the bath.

Sam had never felt so afraid.

…

It wasn't until his temperature had gone down to 100.2 that Sam pulled Dean out of the bath, removed his wet boxers and began to towel Dean dry. In the meantime Bobby had changed the bed sheets and was waiting anxiously as Sam carried Dean back in.

They both sat on the edge of Dean's bed for the whole night, letting out synchronised groans of relief when green eyes peered up at them at 7.

"Hey Dean. Are you o-ok?" Sam's voice came out as more of a croak and hitched slightly, causing Dean to frown. _Why is Sam looking at me like that? God I feel like crap, can't a guy get a break around here? Where am I?_

"What?"

"You were ill Dean. Your fever got too high, do you feel alright now?"

"Peachy." Sam snorted with laughter, even as a kid Dean still used his catch-phrase. Would he ever admit to being ill?

"Sure, and I am a Wendigo." Dean however did not respond, he had fallen fast asleep, his breathing now back to a more normal speed, but still sounding painful. Bobby went to the bathroom and returned with a bowl of water and a wet flannel and watched as Sam wiped Dean's forehead down, remembering all of the times when it had been Dean taking care of Sam. When Sam grazed his knees in a playground, when Sam had eaten too much and spent the night puking up his less than happy meal, when Sam had cut himself while making some salad, and those were just a few of the times that Bobby had witnessed the hurt Winchesters. God only knows how many times they had been hurt and forced to look after each other without Bobby knowing.

Sam stood abruptly and handed Bobby the flannel before hurrying out of the room and shutting himself in the bathroom. The sobs which Sam had so desperately been trying to hide were ripped out of him with the force of a tidal wave and Sam found himself curled up on the floor with his head in his hands. He had never been as emotionally strong as Dean and seeing his brother so sick had deeply shaken him. _I need to sort this out. I need to get him back to normal; I don't know how much longer we can both cope with this. Poor Dean, I’m not the one who should be crying like the kid right now, if anyone has the right to be upset it is Dean, not me!_ Sam gruffly wiped his eyes, splashed water over his face, attempted to compose himself and walked back into the bedroom where Bobby was watching over his brother.

"Sorry. I just needed to…"

"It's alright to cry lad. You are under a lot of stress."

"I need to stay strong for Dean!"

"You are strong. You sorted him out didn't you?"

"Yes but…"

"No buts. You are doing a great job, besides Dean has cried a lot more than you today."

"Yes, but he has been turned into a child, cut up and has a fever."

"True, I guess that was a rather lame attempt at cheering you up, but I am tired. I'm going to bed, and so should you." Sam smiled at Bobby; he did seem to have a way with words, always making Sam feel better no matter what. He carefully laid the damp flannel over Dean's forehead and left it there, climbing into bed, pulling up the covers and burying his head under his pillow in an attempt to block out Dean's pained breathing.

It wasn't until Bobby was shaking him roughly that Sam woke up, rubbing the sleep from his eyes and sitting up quickly.

"What's wrong? Is it Dean? Is he ok?"

"Whoa there, hold your horses. He is fine, but I think you have had enough beauty sleep, I made lunch."

"Lunch?"

"Yes lunch; it is one in the afternoon."

"Sorry Bobby, guess I was tired." _I so needed more than 5 hours in bed!_

"Doesn't matter. I think we should leave Dean in a bit longer though, his breathing seems to be back to normal and he is a normal temperature but he needs all the rest he can get."

"Sounds good to me." Sam swung his legs out of bed and made his way to the bathroom with clean clothes, pulling them on before heading down to the kitchen.

"So what are we going to do about Dean, I mean, how do we go about making him the right age again?"

"Well I've had a look through all my old books on witches, nasty sons-of-bitches if ever there were some, but I haven't come up with anything useful." Sam looked up crestfallen and put down his sandwich after just one bite.

"Now what?"

"Well I know of a woman named Pamela up in Colorado, she may know what to do."

"We need to set off right away then!" Bobby nodded and pulled out his mobile, dialing a number and waiting. With a sigh he listened to the message stating that Pamela Barnes is "out of town for a couple of days, back the day after tomorrow."

"Well? We need to go!" Sam who had briefly left the room to grab some books re-entered and looked hopefully at Bobby with his signature puppy-dog eyes.

"We can't. She's away for a couple of days."

"What the hell!"

"I know, I know."

"What do we do until then?"

"We wait. Keep an eye on Dean, make sure he is alright, and then we go on a twelve hour road trip."

"Great. Well that's just great." Sam slumped into a chair and took another bite of his sandwich, with far more aggression than Bobby deemed necessary. There was a tense silence, only broken when they heard light footsteps in the hallway. Both men jumped out of their skins and pulled out their guns, focusing them on the doorway and hiding beside the door. The lowered their guns immediately when a fully dressed Dean walked slowly into the room.

"Morning Sammy." Dean smiled softly at his brother and sat down at the table, not bothering to comment on the guns trained on him. Such a nice way to be greeted in the morning. Bitch!

"Hey Dean. How are you doing?"

"Awesome. Hungry." Sam nodded; _does anything make Dean loose his appetite for longer than a few hours?_

Sam and Bobby exchanged knowing looks, Bobby grabbing a plate of apple pie from the fridge and Sam sitting down gently next to his brother. He carefully lent forward to feel his forehead; his temperature had gone down a lot since his last dose of Tylenol.

"Sammy!" Dean's voice hitched with protest as he squirmed out of Sam's grasp.

Well Dean is clearly back to his correct mental state. At least some things are looking up.

"Anyway, Bobby knows a woman up in Colorado who may be able to help us; we are going to head off tomorrow morning. Are you sure you are alright?" Dean had swayed slightly in his seat and a strange expression passed over his face, but as soon as Sam pried his face became impassive. Sam left the subject alone and concentrated on serving Dean a giant slice of pie.

Dean attacked it like it was his last meal!

“Dean, don’t eat all of that pie if it is going to make you feel sick again!”

"Fine. M'nm … fr'kn worth it!" Dean tucked into his pie with renewed gusto, speaking with his mouth crammed with apple in an attempt to make things up to his stomach for the last few days. Sam laughed at Dean's delighted expression and picked up a book on witches which he had grabbed from Bobby's library. He might as well try and get some research done during this relative stand-still.

Dean finished his pie in record time and shuffled around so that he could peer over Sam's shoulder, when he couldn't get a good view he climbed up onto his brother's lap, causing Sam to simultaneously smirk and groan.

"Are you going all chick-flick on me in your young age?" Sam grinned and was rewarded with Dean's favourite insult.

"No bitch!" The insult, however, sounded far less threatening coming from such a high voice. Dean shifted a little, deliberately jamming a bony elbow into Sam's ribs before trying to focus on the page. Trying. The words on the page in front of him did not make any sense, he could pick out enough to tell that it was English, but not what the text actually said.

"Sammy!"

"What is it Dean? If you hadn't noticed I am trying to save your ass!" Sam bit his lip when he saw the panicked look on his brother's face.

"Words!"

"What about them?" Dean looked at him with pleading eyes.

"Don't tell me you can't read." Dean nodded and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. _Why me? Why is it always me? I am so done with this witchy ass voodoo crap._

"Don't worry. I can read through it, why don't you do something else? It's not as if you usually do research anyway!" Dean shrugged and shuffled off of Sam's lap, picking up some old car magazines which he had spied and plonking himself on a sofa in the lounge. Sam watched him go and briefly pondered going after his brother, but instead chose to carry on with his reading. After spending his entire life being looked after his brother, he knew when Dean needed time to cool down.

It wasn't until around 4 that Dean stopped sulking, seemingly having calmed himself down looking at the pictures in every car magazine Bobby owns. He came quietly into the kitchen where Sam and Bobby were poring over books.

"Sorry."

"S'alright buddy. You calmed down now?"

"Yes." Dean rested his head on Sam's shoulder wearily, his head had begun pounding about an hour ago and it was only getting worse.

"Dean you look like shit. What's wrong? And don't try to pull that macho, tough guy stunt. It doesn't work when you are tiny anyway."

"Sasquatch!" Sam glared at his brother before resulting to puppy eyes again, that always worked.

"Dean!"

"My head h-hurts." Dean stared down at his hands sadly, he felt so helpless and unbearably embarrassed. _Since when am I so pathetic? I fight monsters, why am I being floored by a headache?!_

"I'm sorry Dean. Want some more Tylenol?" Dean nodded and accepted the spoonful of liquid that his brother offered, drinking it down gratefully before curling in on himself and resting his head on his knees.

"Tomorrow will be better Dean, we will drive to meet Pamela and she can help us track down that witch."

Dean nodded. _I know, I have you, it will be fine._

When Sam entered their shared bedroom a few hours later and saw Dean fast asleep, thumb in mouth, he smiled sadly. Dean deserved so much more than this. He shouldn't have to put up with all this crap.

He pulled Dean's blankets up so that only his face was visible before affectionately stroking his brother's short hair and clambering into bed. Tomorrow was going to be a long day, but hopefully it would be worth it in the end.


	6. Chapter 6

The next morning Dean awoke with a start, stared at his alarm clock and tried to make out the hands, but they all seemed muddled to him. Instead he clambered out of bed and peeked out of the window, having to stand on tiptoes to pull back the curtains. It was still fairly dark outside so Dean sat back down on his bed, pondering the events of the last few days and considering where he and Sam would go for their next hunt, when this mess was all sorted. He was certainly feeling rather vengeful and bloodthirsty; maybe he would find a Wendigo or something.

He absently picked up his toy rabbit and stared into its plastic eyes, ignoring the urge to start playing with it. _Get a grip Dean…what would Dad think? …What would Dad have thought?_ Dean felt tears prick behind his eyelids threateningly but he mentally shook himself, put down the rabbit and stared over at his brother, who was sleeping on his side as if he had fallen asleep keeping an eye on Dean. _Hell that is my job!_ Dean perched himself back on the edge of the bed and laid himself down by Sam's side to guard him, it wasn't much but made him feel slightly less useless. He soon found himself falling fast asleep and subconsciously snuggled closer to Sam, fisting his brother's worn T-shirt protectively.

When Sam stirred at seven he felt something warm lying next to him and jerked to full awareness, grabbing the gun from the bedside table before realising that it was Dean. He looked down at his sleeping brother and felt an overwhelming urge to cuddle Dean closer. As usual his heart won out over his brain and he wrapped his arms around Dean, feeling his brother's warm breath against his chest. Dean moved even closer to Sam and let out a soft snore, fast asleep cradled in his brother's arms and Sam found himself drifting off as well with a smile pasted across his face.

Just a few more minutes of sleep wouldn’t hurt.

* * *

Bobby knocked on their bedroom when both brothers had not surfaced by 8. They had agreed to leave early due to the long drive ahead and had expected them to be up and ready at least an hour ago. When there was no response he opened the door and stepped in. The corners of his mouth twitched upwards when he saw both brothers curled up together and he stepped forward, removing the gun from the bedside table before shaking Sam awake. He didn't want to get shot first thing in the morning, it had happened before and certainly was not an experience that he wanted to repeat.

"Wake up Sam, we need to head off." Sam groaned and reached for his gun automatically in case he needed to defend himself, however it was not there. He sat up and blinked heavily before Bobby's face came into focus and he allowed himself to relax back into the pillows.

"S'rry. I must have fallen asleep again." He loosened his tight grip on his brother, which he didn't realise he’d had, and gave Dean a gentle nudge.

"Dean. You need to wake up now." Dean rolled over in an attempt to fall back asleep but failed when Sam began to tickle his sides. He let out a small squeal and sat himself up before sliding out of bed and glaring at his brother. _What the hell? Who wakes up someone like that? Bitch._

"Gr'off!" Sam, who had now also clambered out of bed, began to grab some clean clothes, chucking them over to Dean, who failed to catch them. It appeared that his hand-eye coordination was somewhat lacking in his four year old body. Sam smirked, Dean always accused him of being lanky and clumsy, and this was his comeuppance. He watched as Dean picked his clothes up and went to the bathroom to get dressed, leaving Bobby and Sam to laugh freely.

"Was he this cute the first time round as a kid?" Once again the question had popped up into Sam's mind and he needed a proper answer.

"Dean was a good kid. Despite everything he always managed to keep on a brave face and look after you and John as best as he could. He was always finding something to keep you happy, playing with you or reading you kiddie books even though he could barely read himself. He used to love painting with you, although half the time there was more paint on your skin than on the paper. I remember one time he painted a picture of your family, me included. I think I still have it somewhere. He was such a creative little guy, shame that he had to grow up so quickly and never really got to enjoy his childhood. Don't get me wrong, your father made the best out of a bad situation but…"

"Yeah, I know." Sam sighed guiltily; it was his fault that his brother had not had a proper childhood. His fault that a demon had come in and wrecked their lives. He was the chosen one, he had caused his mother to die, whether Dean would admit it or not. Sam clenched his fist angrily and punched his pillow and was about to punch the wall when he felt strong arms wrap around him.

"This is not your fault Sam. None of it is, don't beat yourself up. Besides I don’t want to have to patch up my wall again. Remember the last time that Dean kicked in my wall, took me ages to fix it. I do not want a repeat performance."

"I'm sorry Bobby."

"You have nothing to be sorry for. Just calm down, this isn't like you."

"Yeah, you're right, just tired I guess. After Dad and everything, it has just been hard ya know. I'm trying to look out for Dean but he won’t admit that anything's wrong. It's like he's pretending that nothing happened. I know it hit him hard but I don't know how I can help. He needs to talk to someone!"

"Dean's Dean, Sam. He deals with things his own way, bottles them up. Same as John always did. I think he finds it easier than expressing himself, c'mon chick-flick emotional crap has never been his scene. He will talk if and when he needs to."

"Yeah you're right, again. I just want to help him!"

"You are helping him, just be there, and if he does crack, then deal with it then. Until that point in time, relax a bit and focus on finding this witch."

"Thanks Bobby." When everyone was fully washed and dressed, the hunters sat down and ate breakfast in near silence, only making brief small talk about the best route to Colorado. Dean was the most silent however; he was too busy contemplating what would happen if this Pamela woman could not help them. _Don't think like that Dean. You will sort it out. You always do. And now I am talking to myself…again. What a mess!_

It was with a resigned silence that the trio climbed into the Impala, Dean and Bobby both sitting in the back with Sam at the front, partly because Dean had scowled at the thought of being chucked out of the shotgun seat for someone else, partly so Dean could spread out and keep himself occupied with the colouring books which he would inevitably be drawn to when bored. It had become clear that Dean had triggers which made him fully revert to a child, boredom, fright and pain. Bobby hoped that the only thing he would have to contend with that day was boredom, which he was well prepared for. He had bought some new car magazines for Dean when he and his brother were sleeping, had packed a pillow and blanket, two colouring books, a spare pack of crayons as well as a book of children's puzzles which he had dug out from the attic.

They set off and Sam put on Dean's Led Zeppelin cassette hoping that it would help to keep his brother entertained. It only worked for a few hours. Dean had begun to tap his feet and wriggle in his seat after three hours of driving, he was bored rigid and they had only travelled a quarter of the total distance. It took all of Bobby's patience to tempt Dean with one of the colouring books so that he finally settled down again. Once he had finished the car he was colouring in he turned his attention to Bobby, holding out the book to reveal a blank page.

"You draw?" Bobby realised that Dean wanted him to draw something for him to colour in, the only problem was that his artistic skills stretched about as far as Devil's traps or ancient runes. With a sigh he accepted the book and a blue crayon.

"What to you want me to draw?" Bobby hoped that Dean would pick something easy. He was disappointed.

"D-no-saw." _Aww great. How am I meant to draw that?_

"Sure thing." Bobby chewed his lip before beginning to draw a T-rex, or at least an attempt of a T-rex which looked like it was related to a cactus. With a sigh he handed over the completed drawing, expecting Dean to complain about how bad it was. Instead Dean grinned as if Christmas had come early and Santa had bought apple pie.

"Thank you! Bobby the best." Dean began to colour in beaming, colouring over at least half of lines much to Bobby's amusement. He didn't think the drawing could get any worse…clearly he was wrong. About half an hour of Dean hiding the book from Bobby he was ready for the grand revelation, and Bobby had to choke back a laugh at the abysmal attempt of a dinosaur. Sam glanced around at Bobby's hacking coughs, which he was trying to cover up the laughter with, and caught sight of the drawing. After being bought up by Dean, who constantly praised his work and looked out for him, Sam knew exactly what to say.

"Wow Dean! That’s really good. You are a right little artist aren't you? What are you going to call him?"

"Ummm…"

"Rex?" Bobby's lame suggestion was awarded by two glaring Winchesters and they sat in silence for a moment.

"I got it." Sam exclaimed with a triumphant look on his face. "Dean-o-saur." Bobby bit back yet another laugh and watched as Dean giggled and began to clumsily write down the dinosaur's name, spelling it completely wrong.

The next few hours were filled with conversations about dinosaurs and dragons, Bobby telling Dean old folk legends in order to keep him entertained. It wasn't until the sun was beginning to go down that things went wrong. Really wrong. Sam had pulled into a lay-by in order to stretch his legs when he heard a screaming woman. He immediately kicked into hunter mode and flung open the car door, calling for Bobby to follow him, grabbing some guns and holy water from the boot and ordering Dean to stay inside. The last thing he needed was a four year old on a hunt, it was far too dangerous.

Dean attempted to protest, his mind having snapped back to reality at the sound of screaming. Someone needed his help, but before he could protest further Sam had locked him in and both he and Bobby had disappeared into the dense woodland.

_Great, just great. Lovely to know when you are appreciated. I am quite capable of hunting; I have for all of my life for goodness sake. I am so gonna kick Sammy's ass when he gets back. If he gets back. What if something happens? What if Sammy is injured? Killed even._

Dean swore under his breath, knowing what he had to do. He began to fiddle expertly with the lock on his car door, mumbling apologies to his Baby when he had to use brute force to open her door. _Sammy will pay for this!_

Next, Dean forced open the boot with a bent paperclip which he had found stuffed between the back seats. He was in a hurry, but was not stupid enough to go after his brother and Bobby unarmed. Once he had selected a gun he shut the car door and began to follow in his brother's footsteps, keeping the gun held out in front of him. His father had not allowed him to use a gun until he was six, although in this case Dean decided that desperate times equaled desperate measures. He was aware that his hands were shaking slightly, his four-year-old self threatening to make him panic, but he refused to give in to fear. He picked up the pace when he heard a loud groan which sounded horribly as if it had come from Bobby's mouth, and began to sprint when he heard two loud thudding sounds and the screaming stop.

It seemed as though Bobby and Sam had managed to get the woman away, as Dean saw her sprint by him as fast as he could but there was no sign of his family following after them.

_Great._

Dean ran forwards into a clearing – he didn’t have time to panic.

He froze when he saw a pale humanoid figure pinning his brother to a tree. Sam was struggling wildly, staring transfixed at his knife which was lying on the ground next to him. Bobby was lying on the ground a few feet away from Sam, clutching at his leg in agony and attempting to stand up and help Sam. The monster let out an inhuman howl which tore through Dean, causing him to react on instinct. Without further thought Dean raised his gun and shot the creature in the back of the head, the recoil sending him flying backwards into a tree, his own head hitting the trunk hard enough to knock the air out of him. The beast let out another screech and lurched blindly towards Dean; enraged it managed to power over to him within two seconds before collapsing, dead, to the ground, its claws lashing out an inch from Dean's face.

Sam, who had dropped to the ground like a stone upon release, ran over to Dean, who was still laying against the tree with his head lolling to the side panting for breath.

"DEAN!" Sam knelt down next to his brother, rubbing his own neck with one hand and checking Dean's pulse with the other.

"Dean are you alright man? C'mon snap out of it De…" Dean groaned softly and opened his eyes, head spinning. He blinked up at his older brother before choking out his name.

"S'm." _Did I hit it? Was I in time to stop Sammy from getting hurt?_

"I'm here Dean. Nothing is gonna happen to you. I promise. Just try to breath for me." Dean nodded, immediately regretting the motion and screwing his eyes tight shut.

"B'by." Dean croaked out, feebly pointing in the direction of his surrogate uncle.

"Shit." With one last glance at Dean, Sam turned and hurried over to Bobby, who had managed to haul himself up and lean heavily against another tree.

"Bobby are you alright?"

"M'fine. Just gimme a sec…" Bobby groaned and limped over to Dean and Sam, allowing the latter to wrap an arm around him for support. Sam moaned under the additional weight and sighed in resignation when he looked at Dean, who still hadn't made a move.

 _Damn my head hurts like a sonofabitch. Freaking monster crap, owww._ Dean whimpered and tried to make sense of his surroundings. Everything was a blur; he could barely make out his brother and Bobby's forms. _This sucks some serious ass!_

"Dean do you think you can stand?" Sam knew he was clutching at straws, and knew that the answer would be no. Dean knew the answer as well but also knew he had to try for Sammy's sake. The last thing Sam needed was to carry two people back to the Impala. He managed to push himself up on to his knees, and then onto both feet before his legs gave way and he ended up back where he started. _Shit._

"S'okay Dean. I've got you this time." Dean shook his head and tried again, falling face down in the dirt and letting out a whimper of pain. Sam knew that he had no choice but to carry Dean as well as dragging Bobby. He briefly propped Bobby against a tree long enough for him to scoop up Dean before resuming his grip on the older hunter. Ten painful minutes later Dean was lying in the front seat of the car with his chin on his chest, whilst Sam stitched up the deep gash in Bobby's leg. They all looked worse for wear but it was Dean that Sam was most worried about. His brother was keeping up a good front, glancing up and smiling at Sam reassuringly, but Sam knew that as soon as he turned away his brother's face dropped.

Once done Sam climbed into the driver's seat and gave Dean another quick once-over, checking the gash on the back of Dean's head and looking into his eyes. Dean seemed to be having trouble focusing but he shot Sam another smile, well the window behind Sam another smile.

"I'm ok. Can we go?"

"Yeah Dean. Not long now." Dean did not respond, but tightened his grip on his toy rabbit and tried to stop the tremors racking through his body. He vaguely realised that he was probably going in to shock and had a concussion, but he didn't really care. _I saved Sam and Bobby. I finally did something right! At least I'm not completely useless._ Dean began to smile to himself again and didn't notice that he had fallen asleep until he was being shaken roughly awake.

"Dean. Dean! Wake up, stay with me. Come on man, stay awake, you hit your head pretty bad, I need you to try keep up."

"Mmmmm. M'tired."

"Please Dean." A full dose of puppy-dog eyes was enough to keep Dean awake for a further ten minutes but after that his eyelids felt as if they were made of lead and his grip on the toy rabbit slackened, causing it to fall to the floor as he drifted off.

Sam sighed, fully resigned to the fact that Dean definitely had a concussion. Well, at least he had faced worse. He watched Dean with his head against the dashboard, shoulders heaving with each breath and vaguely considered trying to wake the child again but decided to let sleeping dogs lie. He kept absentmindedly rubbing his bruised neck, but was thankful that was all he had to contend with. He needed to man up and stay strong for his brother, and not being injured would probably help with that plan.

Meantime, Bobby was making his way through a bottle of whiskey in an attempt to numb the pain and he practically slopped some down himself when Sam let out a cry of triumph just under an hour later.

"What is it ya idjit? Ugh…I'm too old for this."

"We're here." Sam pulled into the driveway of Pamela's house and let out another whoop of relief before unlocking his door and helping Bobby out. He then opened Dean's door and picked up his brother and securing the blanket around him. Bobby let out a few grunts and what sounded like a growl on the way to the front door, which opened before Sam even had a chance to knock.

"You're late, Sam." A beautiful, leggy brunette had swung the door open and was leaning casually against the door frame wearing a very revealing tight black top.

"Sorry. We were…"

"In the middle of hunting. Yes, I know." _Maybe she really is psychic then._

"Yes, exactly." Sam ran a hand through his hair and scratched at his head wearily. Pamela's intense gaze seemed to be searing into his soul.

"Come in." Pamela stood back and watched as Sam and Dean entered before enveloping Bobby in a tight hug.

"Are you alright Bobby? How is everything?"

"M'fine thanks, Pam. Any chance of some more booze?" Pamela smiled and led them into her sitting room where Bobby perched on a wooden chair making his way through the whiskey that Pamela had already set out for him.

"I must say your brother and Bobby are definitely looking rather worse for wear. You however, Samuel Winchester are looking mighty fine I must say. Just look at that perky little ass of yours. You could bounce a nickel off that thing!" Pamela ignored Sam's taken aback look and the way that he flinched when she grabbed his butt, carrying on regardless. "Sam, you might want to give Dean an ice-pack. He has a concussion, don't worry, it isn't life threatening but he gave himself a thump good enough to warrant some bed rest."

"Um, how did you know he 'gave himself' the injury?" Sam cleared his throat and took a step back from the woman's groping hands, settling down into an armchair with Dean held close.

"Because that is your brother's destiny; to save you no matter what."

"What do you mean?"

"Nothing." Sam knew there was something that Pamela was not telling him, but he was far too tired to think much into it at that point in time. Even if he had been about to say something, Pamela would not have heard as she had drifted into the kitchen without another word. Sam shot Bobby a questioning look but the older hunter just shrugged and continued with project: Intoxication.

When Pamela returned with a cloth wrapped ice pack and handed it to Sam she sunk into another armchair, put her slim legs up onto a footstall and staring at them patiently.

"Do you think you can help us?" Sam was first to break the silence, he was holding the ice to Dean's head and watching as Dean's eyelids fluttered lightly in his sleep.

"Yes and No."

"What do you mean by that?" Exasperation was beginning to enter Sam's tone; _I am so not in the mood to play games, Lady._

"I can tell you where to find the witch who did this to Dean, but I can also advise you not to go after her. It is up to you whether you heed my advice."

"Were going to find her…"

"Of course you are going to go, I already know that. I just half-hoped that you would see sense. That witch is a nasty bitch, she will certainly give you your money's worth. "

"I don't care. He's my brother; I would do anything for him."

"I know you will. Such a shame."

"Are you going to tell me what to do?"

"Now is not the time Sam. Be patient. Tomorrow when your brother is in a better state, I will help you." _That's it. I can't deal with this right now._

"Fine. My brother is tired, if you don't mind I think I will excuse myself too." Sam tried to sound reasonable, and was not completely successful, the bitch face he pulled negating the effects his soft tone.

"Of course." If Pamela had picked up on Sam's sarcasm, which she almost certainly had, she ignored it and led Sam to the corridor. "I only have two guest bedrooms, a double and a single. I guess you and your brother should take the double and Bobby can sleep alone. He has always been the solitary type since…" She cut herself off, instead choosing to motion Sam up the staircase.

Unless of course, you would like to join me in my room Sam."

"Uh, thanks but no thanks." Sam inwardly groaned, glad that his brother was still fast asleep. Otherwise he would never have heard the end of this.

"Shame. You really do have a fine ass." Pamela sighed and followed Sam up the stairs; he was sure that he was staring at his buttocks as he walked in front of her and felt his cheeks reddening. Bobby, who had just managed to stand up and stumble forward drunkenly, followed after the trio and began to laugh to himself.

_Poor Sammy._

Bobby collapsed onto his bed and was asleep in seconds, not noticing when Pamela slapped Sam's ass before leaving the Winchesters to sleep off their hard day. Sam quickly checked Dean's head again and settled down next to him, to what he hoped would be a peaceful night, for once.


	7. Chapter 7

Alas, Sam was not destined to have a 'peaceful night.' Instead he was roused at around 3am by a thrashing and panting Dean.

"Whoa…whoa Dean what's up man? Talk to me? De, you ok?" Sam quickly turned the bedside light on so that he could see what the hell was going on with his brother. The sight of Dean tangled in bedding with sweat dripping down his forehead did not do much to assure Sam that everything was ok.

"SHIT. Wake up Dean! DEAN!" Dean continued to thrash, only opening his eyes when Sam resorted to shaking his shoulders firmly. Terrified green eyes blinked blearily at Sam, who felt his heart constrict when Dean scrabbled at his chest, first in panic at being attacked, and then for the comfort which Sam was desperately trying to provide.

"Shhh. It's alright, it's ok. What has gotten into you? I have never seen you like this. It was just a nightmare Dean. You're safe with me."

_Just because you have never seen me have a nightmare, doesn't mean I haven't. You were probably fast asleep snoring during it!_

After silently seething and crying Dean sniffed softly and attempted to get a grip on himself, he was completely mortified about blubbering like a baby again. Normally when he had nightmares he contained himself, held back the tears and went for a brisk run, or washed his flushed face under a cold tap. But he couldn't do that right now, so as an alternative he wiped his nose on a proffered tissue and laid himself back down on the soft mattress, it made a nice change to the crappy motel ones he usually kipped on.

"Look Dean, I'm sorry if that sounded harsh man. I only want to get you back to normal." Dean scowled and shuffled deeper under the covers, still shaking from the flashbacks of his nightmare.

_His mother was pinned to the ceiling, with blood staining her pure white nightgown and with flames billowing around her petite body. The flames seemed to make her long blonde hair glow and even dead she was beautiful, staring down at her eldest son with her mouth and eyes open wide in a silent scream for mercy._

_The images around Dean began to swim and he found himself in a dark corridor. He began to sprint as fast as he could, towards the agonised screaming of his brother. The walls of the corridor were closing in on him, but he continued running, sprinting for both his and his brother's life. He could see flashing lights under the door and automatically assumed that his brother too was being consumed by fire. Hell fire._

_He burst into the door at the end of the corridor to see Sam shackled to a bed, iron chains wrapped around his entire body with a tall man looming over him carrying a wine bottle. An invisible force sent Dean flying through the air and pinned him to the wall, no matter how hard he struggled he was unable to move._

_Dean watched in horror when the demon standing over his brother poured a wine glass of glutinous, red liquid and began to tip it down his brother's throat before pouring himself a glass. That was not wine._

_"Bottoms up, Sammy boy." The demon laughed and suddenly Dean was falling to the floor and the demon had disappeared. Dean scrambled to his feet and found a key lying on top of Sam's chest, picking it up and unlocking the chains that were restraining his younger brother._

_"Why thank you Dean. I always knew you would be useful one day."_

_"What?"_

_"I always thought you were a pathetic waste of space, following Dad around like a love-struck puppy, obeying every one of his orders like the spineless, pathetic nobody that you are. You don't even have your own identity. Who are you Dean? Who are you really? You live to serve me, to do Dad's bidding. You own father's old car, listen to Mum's music, read his journal as if it is your Bible. Pathetic."_

_"S-Sammy…Stop it!"_

_"Sammy, stop it" Sam's voice took on a high winging tone, mimicking Dean and causing fury to run through his older brother's veins._

_"Let him go, you are not my brother." Dean watched wearily as not-Sam began to pace the room with his back turned._

_"Oh, but I am. I am what your brother will become." Suddenly Dean was pinned against the wall again and Sam's face was an inch away from his own. He could feel his brother's every breath against his face and could see deep into Sam's puppy dog eyes, which had suddenly flared to an unbearable brightness, going from hazel to bright yellow._

"No!"

Dean battled to stop the tremors running through him and jumped when he felt arms wrap around him, one arm moving under his knees and the other supporting his back as Sam carried Dean out of bed and downstairs, still wrapped up tight in a blanket.

"I'm sorry Dean. Please talk to me." Dean buried his head further into the crook of Sam's neck and allowed a few silent tears to trickle onto his brother's shoulder.

"Shh. Shh. Shhhhh. I got you bro. I've got you, it's ok now. It was a nightmare, just a nightmare. A horrible one I'm sure, but it wasn't real." Dean cried even harder and wrapped his arms around his brother, intertwining his hands in his Sam's hair and holding on for dear life.

"Shhhhhh."

"S'mmy."

"I've got you." Dean sniffed and tried to calm his breathing, clutching onto his brother with all the strength left in him. Neither brother noticed the dark figure sitting at the table when they entered the kitchen.

"It's a bit late for a midnight snack boys, or it is a bit early for breakfast if you want to look at it that way."

"Sorry."

"Left hand cupboard, top shelf."

"What?"

"Hot chocolate, which is what you were looking for, right? Oh, and there are some marshmallows up there and whipped cream in the fridge. I knew you would be needing them, so popped down to the shops yesterday."

"You do realise that you are ridiculously creepy when you do that!"

"Whatever grumpy, I'm doing you one hell of a favour."

"Yeah. Thanks." Sam, who was now acutely aware of the fact he was just wearing boxers, shuffled over to the cupboard, shifting Dean so that he was being carried with just one arm. When he attempted to put Dean down on a chair his brother just clung on, green eyes widening with fear at being left behind.

"No."

"Ok, ok." Sam sighed and set about heating some milk, mixing in rich chocolate powder and finally squeezing on a huge serving of whipped cream and a handful of marshmallows, holding his brother up on his other side the whole time. He then sat down on the seat opposite Pamela, settled Dean on his lap and handed his brother the drink, rocking him gently and humming Metallica under his breath. Dean smiled softly and took a sip, finally managing to stop his hands from trembling.

"Just like old times eh, hot chocolate, cuddles. Getting all chick flick on me." This finally got a smile out of Dean, and then a full on grin with dimples.

"Hell no." Dean smiled smugly at his brother and wiped his face before drinking more of the hot chocolate. Once he had finished the whole mug he had stopped crying and hiccupping, much to both his and Sam's relief. Sam and Pamela had exchanged a few worried glances, but now Pamela was smiling fondly at the two brothers. Yes they were trouble, and she had the distinct feeling that they would be the undoing of her, but for now she was willing to help them. Dean had finally fallen asleep in Sam's arms and was breathing heavily.

"Poor thing looks exhausted. Things will get easier for him though, this is one helluva mountain to climb for a child, but his mind is stronger than you both realise. He still has some control. Get some rest and I will sort you both out, I will find out where that witch lives, but what I said still stands. I do not think you should go after her all guns blazing."

"Well I have to do something."

"Indeed, I thought you would say that. I can't even begin to tell you how crazy you two are." Sam gave a lopsided smile and flicked his hair sarcastically before cradling Dean closer and carrying him upstairs, politely bidding Pamela goodnight before he did so. Soon he and Dean were fast asleep again, both managing to sleep through the night without any more disturbances.

They both awoke the next morning when Pamela knocked on their door.

"Rise and shine, no rude rising pun intended lads." She entered the room without asking, throwing open the curtains and sneaking a few looks in Sam's direction, the subject of those looks uncomfortably shuffled under the covers and thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't kicked them off during the night.

"Meet you in the lounge in ten; I am all set up for you." With that she simply left as if nothing had happened. Sam and Dean exchanged equally nervous, incredulous and excited looks before getting themselves ready. Dean bounded down the stairs and almost lost his footing, skidding to a halt and waiting at the bottom of the staircase for Sammy, who had never been one for running around like a lunatic unless it was absolutely necessary. Think first, act later. Most of the time, unless it came down to Dean's safety being at risk.

They entered the lounge to find the curtains drawn, with no lights apart from flickering candles that cast looming shadows around the room which seemed to leer at the two brothers.

"Right, take each others hand." Dean and Sam exchanged looks before following Pamela's instructions, Dean keeping a close eye on her every move.

"I evoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I evoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle. I evoke, conjure and command you, appear unto me before this circle. Hello? No, sorry, I don't scare easy… It's whispering to me, warning me to turn back. I conjure and command you, show me your face. I almost got it. I command you, show me your face. NOW." All eyes were focused on Pamela as her voice raised in pitch, eventually becoming a screech of indignant fury at being denied, until suddenly the candle flames grew to four times their original size, forcing Sam and Dean to flinch back and cover their eyes, breaking the circle.

"Pamela?" Pamela had slumped forwards and was clutching her head, blood visibly oozing from her nose.

"Got the bitch." Pamela drew in a shaky breath and wiped her nose on the back of her hand, hissing slightly at the sight of her blood pasting her tanned skin.

"Where?" Dean looked up at her with wide green eyes and Pamela sighed dramatically, she knew there was no stopping the boys. If she didn't tell them the witch's whereabouts they would find out some other way.

"She's staying in a warehouse not far from here; about half an hours drive at most. So what is your plan then boys?"

"Drive there and make her reverse the spell, kill her and leave with Dean back to his usual self."

"Do you have any idea how heavy duty insane that is? You are planning to just swan in there, walk through the front door and hope for the best. Then what, are you going to ask her to kindly lie down, tie her up and ask her some questions? Do you really think she will go down that easily, without a fight?"

"Of course not, but it is our only option."

"So you keep saying." She watched sadly as both boys headed upstairs, roused Bobby to tell him they needed to go and came back down with their bags packed just ten minutes later.

"Wait up you boys." Bobby hurried down the stairs after them as best as he could on his injured leg.

"What?" Sam put his bag down and turned around to face the older hunter, expecting him to try and dissuade them from going after the witch as well.

"Where the hell do you think you are going without me?"

"No offence Bobby, but you look like shit!"

"Language boy!"

"Yeah grumpy!" Pamela had just poked her head around the corner and shot Sam a cheeky wink before going back to whatever she was doing.

"Bobby…"

"You really think I am gonna let you boy's out there on your own?"

"Bobby you can barely stand, you will slow us down!" Sam knew that this was below the belt, but he couldn't risk Bobby's health or Dean's for that matter. "It is for the best." Bobby grunted in response and tried to straighten himself up to prove that he could walk, only succeeding in sliding further down the wall he was leaning on.

"See!"

"Fine. I will be back in South Dakota. Call me if you need me." Bobby scowled at the brothers before limping towards the door and slamming it hard in the Winchester's faces. _I am not useless! Fine. They can deal without me, they better not come crying…_ Bobby was seething, but knew in his heart of hearts that Sammy was right. Cruel to be kind and all that. He would just slow them down, he wasn't as cut out for the job as he used to be, or wanted to be. He just hated the feeling of being useless. After taking a stroll and casually leaning against a black Volkswagen he discovered that the owner hadn't even locked it. This is too easy. Bobby slipped into the car swiftly and hotwired the engine, speeding away less than two minutes later, leaving the Impala for Sam and Dean. _Simple, I'm stuck in a world full of bloody Idjits._

At around the same time as Bobby, Sam and Dean settled into the Impala, switched on some Metallica and began to drive to the warehouse. Dean was staring out of the windows, transfixed by the houses, shops, trees and fields passing them as they travelled further and further into the middle of nowhere. Sam was totally on edge and practically jumped out of his seatbelt when a deer ran across the road. _This is ridiculous, get a grip Sam. What would dad do? He would sort that witch out without batting an eyelid, remain strong in the face of danger. And I will to._

With these thoughts spinning in his head Sam realised that he was pulling into the car park in front of an old warehouse. Sam couldn't help but feel a little disappointed; he was expecting some run-down building, rats, a caving in roof, maybe even some bones scattered across the forecourt. But there was none of that; this was just a simple warehouse which looked like a corrugated tin can gone square. He ran a hand through his hair and swung open the car door and watched as Dean did the same. It was Dean who led the way to the warehouse, holding a gun up and beckoning for Sam to follow him. They cautiously made their way to the front entrance, the witch certainly wouldn't expect that, and Sam briefly mused over the irony of Pamela's previous accusations. _“You are planning to just swan in there, walk through the front door and hope for the best?” Yes Pamela, it looks like we are._

Both brothers pressed themselves against the doorway before swiftly entering the warehouse, which was comprised of one room with whitewashed walls, grey ceilings with rows of strip lights and wire racks stacked high with cardboard boxes.

 _Lovely place. Love the grunge style, very nineties._ Dean began to make his way around the warehouse with Sam a few steps behind him. He was easily able to conceal himself behind the boxes due to his diminished height, Sam however was not so lucky. Little did the brothers know that a tall, blonde woman was watching from two rows of wire racks away. She smiled serenely as she watched the boy's sneaking around like predators, little did they realise that they were the prey currently being stalked. _This is fun._

The witch pulled a lipstick out of the pocket of her black jeans and began to apply crimson war-paint onto her lips. Sometimes a girl has to make an effort and killing the Winchester boys seemed like a special enough occasion. With a swish of hair and a few swaying steps she made herself known, striding behind the Winchesters and coughing pointedly.

Dean and Sam whipped around and stared at the beautiful woman before them, a woman whom they both recognised from a few days ago.

"YOU!" Sam took three steps forward towards the striking woman in front of him. He had no game plan but standing still did not seem to be a good option and at least he had managed to shield Dean slightly.

"Is that any way to greet an old friend?"

"Turn my brother back you bitch."

"Or what?"

"Or I'll…" Sam was cut off when he was thrown ten feet into the air and came crashing down on a pile of cardboard boxes, which were thankfully empty.

"Now, now Sam. You are in no position to start threatening me. Anyway, where would the fun be in simply changing your brother back? He really is a little sweetie and I really am enjoying playing around with him."

"You bitch."

"That is no way to speak to a lady. You should mind your manners Sammy or I will be forced to make you."

"Don't call me that!" Sam realised he was being more childish than Dean, but reprimanding the witch was strangely satisfying. He pulled himself groggily to his feet, quickly assessing the damage; his ankle was hurting like a mother but apart from that… "I suggest that you turn my brother back right now before I am forced to do something drastic." He had no idea what said 'drastic' thing would be, but damn Sam was angry and prepared to do pretty much anything. That was when he was thrown back again, this time hitting the ground and crumpling into an unceremonious heap.

Dean let out a muffled cry of fury when he saw his brother hit the floor and ran forward, banishing all thoughts of how stupid what he was about to do was. He pounced on the witch, ignoring the twinge in his chest as he pulled the skin of his newly healed injury, the one she had caused during their last encounter.

Seconds later all Sam could make out of his brother was flailing arms and legs, punching, kicking and scratching whatever area of the woman he could reach. For a moment her blue eyes widened with shock, but the look subsided almost immediately and Sam wondered whether it had been there in the first place.

With Dean momentarily distracting the witch, Sam was able to haul himself up, grab his gun (which had fallen to the floor) and aim it at her. Dean was still fighting furiously, but the blows were light coming from such tiny fists, but Sam knew when to grab an opportunity by the horns. The witch would not be distracted for long. Sam aimed the shotgun and pulled the trigger, the bullet flew from the barrel at breakneck speed and hit the woman in the shoulder, but Dean had moved a few millimeters to the right in his struggle and the bullet had skimmed his arm causing Dean to howl in pain. Sam dove forward and picked up his brother, who had been dropped to the floor and was gagging in agony.

"Hey, hey, hey. Dean?" Sam pulled his brother gently upright and lent him against his own body, wrapping his scarf around Dean's arm and tying it tightly before turning his attention back to the witch, satisfied that his brother was not in danger of dying from blood loss. He placed Dean down and told him to keep back.

When the witch made a move to stand Sam didn't even think before shooting her again, this time in the knee. An ear piercing scream rang throughout the warehouse but Sam ignored it and with his face set in determination he grabbed some ropes, which were nearby and swiftly tied the witch up against one of the wire racks.

"YOU HAD BETTER TELL ME HOW TO CHANGE MY BROTHER BACK RIGHT NOW!"

"Sorry Sammy, you can't just turn those puppy dog eyes on me and expect me to obey your each and every word. I am not Dean."

"You will tell me or I swear to God I will force you to!" With that Sam drew out a knife, and it wasn't until the blade was a few centimeters away from the witch's face before she reacted. With a flash of light she disappeared, causing Sam to whip around wildly.

"Where'd she go?" Sam brandished his knife and kept the gun held tightly in his hands, gasping and letting both drop to the floor when he caught sight of his brother.

"Dean!" Dean was wriggly desperately, with his bad arm held tightly in the witch's grasp.

"How?" The witch was standing without a limp; her shoulder was no longer bleeding and was smiling sweetly at him, a twisted glint in her eyes.

"I am a witch after all. It's what I do."

"I SWEAR TO GOD, LET HIM GO!"

"No." Dean squirmed and began to kick and hit the witch with his good arm, whimpering when she dug her fingernails into the wound.

"Just leave him alone. Please." The witch's smile intensified as she allowed Dean to drop to the floor.

"That's more like it. You only had to ask nicely. Manners are everything." Dean pulled himself up and stumbled over to his younger brother, standing protectively in front of Sam after grabbing the gun and knife from the floor. The witch laughed at them.

"Too cute, you really think that you can protect your brother? Will you ever learn Dean?" The witch disappeared again, and this time when she reappeared, she was holding Sam. Dean lunged forward and shot the witch again, hoping it would at least slow her down for a while…

At least it half worked.

Sam was the next to be dropped to the floor, but the witch did not drop with him, instead she re-materialized next to Dean, took hold of his forehead and cackled as he crumpled to a heap on the floor with a flash of blue light.

"DEAN!" Sam scrambled to his feet and over to his brother again.

"Don't you worry that pretty little head of yours, he's just unconscious. He will wake up of his own accord."

"But you won't." With one last glance at Dean, Sam pinned the witch against a stack of cardboard boxes and held the gun to her forehead.

"Sam." The witch's voice was full of venom and warning, but Sam had always been the most emotional in the Winchester family and he could hear the subtle undertone of fear in her voice.

"No. Don't even try it. You will tell me how to get Dean back to his right age and body, or I will kill you right now."

"No, I won't."

"Yes, you will." Sam cocked the gun and began to put pressure on the trigger.

"I am not telling you anything."

"I think you are." Sam pressed the trigger down a few millimeters further before the witch finally caved.

"Ok. Ok! Don't be a fool, just don't shoot!"

"How?"

"Book, pocket, page 187."

"Thank you." Sam slipped his hand in the witch's pocket and pulled out a book, flipping to the correct page and checking that the witch would not be needed for the spell to work. She wasn't.

"I think you meant to say ‘just don't shoot please.’ Manners are everything." Ah, the legendry Winchester humor strikes again...With that Sam shot the witch in the head, grimacing as blood spattered across his face. A sudden blinding pain shot through Sam's leg and he collapsed to the ground, gasping as he came face to face with the witch, who had a smile fixed across her unseeing face. She had enjoyed her one last act of revenge.

Sam forced himself to his feet and shoved the book to his pocket before limping over to Dean. He allowed himself one glance to his leg - there was a long wire pole sticking out of it, which he assumed had been part of one of the wire racks. Sam forced himself to ignore it. With a Herculean effort he grabbed his brother and half dragged, half carried him out of the warehouse, limping and gasping as each footstep caused him unbearable agony. When the brothers eventually made it to the Impala, Sam dropped Dean into the passenger seat before dragging himself to the driver's seat and beginning the drive to the nearest motel, there was no way he could make it back to Pamela's.

By the time they were five minutes away Sam could feel dizziness taking over, but forced himself to press on. He wasn't entirely sure how he made his way into the hotel room, how he managed to book a room or get past the concierge.

The last thing he remembered doing was dropping Dean onto one of the beds, and the last thing he saw was the mobile phone which he had dropped in pain. He had only managed to set it up on Bobby's contact details, having no more energy left to dial the number.


	8. Chapter 8

When Dean stirred he let out a small grunt of pain, but forced himself to sit upright. His head was spinning and Dean was sure that some sick fuck had dumped him on a merry-go-round. Well he certainly wasn't feeling very merry. After blinking the sleep from his eyes Dean squinted around and realised that he was not on a ride at all, but was lying in on a dingy motel bed. _Home sweet crappy home._ That was when it hit him, the witch; he had been zapped into oblivion and had somehow ended up in a bed. This could not be good.

Sammy.

It was the only reasonable explanation.

_Where the hell is Sammy?_

"S-am?" Dean's voice cracked with strain but he ignored it, staring around blindly until he found a light switch, and found his brother passed out on the floor with a large pole sticking out of his leg. It had to be about three centimeters in diameter with jagged edges.

"SAM!" Dean half fell, half climbed out of bed and stumbled over to his brother, his brother who was not moving. Dean could feel panic rising up inside him, roaring through his veins and making Dean feel sick to his stomach. So much for butterflies in your stomach when you are nervous, Dean was certain he was harboring a winged wendigo or something inside of him.

Forcing himself to get a grip and look after his brother, Dean rolled him over onto his side, an act which cost him a ridiculous amount of energy considering Sam was so huge. _Bloody Sasquatch, couldn't he just be a normal size?_ Dean quickly checked that Sam had a pulse with trembling hands - it took him far too long to find one and the panic inside him roared again. Dean realised that he was sobbing hard, the sight of his brother's blood pooling on the floor not doing anything to comfort him. The pole must have hit a vein or something – Sam was bleeding out.

"W-wa-ke up. S-sammy? P-p-ple-please." Dean sobbed even harder when his brother did not respond, the adult part of his mind was battling with his childish one, one side wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball, be hugged and cry, whereas the other half knew he had to do something. The only issue was that all of his medical training appeared to have gone out of the window, through a glass window and without a parachute! He didn't know whether to remove the pole, or what to do. But he knew he had to do something, and fast and removing it seemed like the only feasible option to the mind of a four year old.

Dean gritted his teeth and hauled himself to his feet, grabbing Sam's duffel and pulling out the first aid kit. With trembling hands he managed to pull the pole out, cutting his hand deeply in the process. Pain coursed through his entire arm, why did he hurt the same one again? Dean felt tears rolling faster down his cheeks and wiped them away, holding a cloth to his brother's leg, his hand now juddering and shaking even more violently. Now, the adult part of him knew that he should have left the metal in, but he had panicked, and at least now he could get to the wound easier. The adult part of his brain took control long enough for Dean to wrap a bandage around Sam's leg, check his brother's breathing again and call for Bobby. He had spotted the mobile phone lying a few feet away from his brother and managed to press the green button. With baited breath Dean listened to the dialing tone and a few high bleeps before a gruff voice answered him. All of his courage failed Dean again, he was stuck alone in some grotty motel room and Bobby was probably half way back to South Dakota by now.

"Sam?" Bobby could hear a strange snuffling noise down the other end of the line, he hadn't got as far on his way back home as Dean had expected, having stopped off at the lake where he was enjoying a few, well a lot of cool beers.

"B-b…" Dean could not get any further, the words cut off by a choking sob which racked through his tiny frame.

"Dean? What's wrong boy? Is Sam there?" Dean cried harder into the phone and it took a lot of reassuring nonsense on Bobby's side to persuade the boy to talk.

"Is he hurt Dean? I need you to stay calm. Where is Sam hurt?"

"L-leg. W-won't w-w-ake." Dean managed to gasp, Sam was still lying perfectly still and Dean could see blood seeping through the bandage.

"Dean, I am on my way. I've tracked your phone signal; I should be there in ten minutes tops." Bobby was a good half and hours' drive away from the motel, but with a bit of luck and the following wind, as well as breaking about thirteen driving laws, he should make it to the Winchesters quickly. He just hoped the idjits were going to be alright in the meantime.

When Bobby hung up Dean dialed 911, his hands fumbling so much that it took him four attempts to dial the three little numbers.

"911, What's your emergency?"

"N-need, my S-Sammy, he's h-hurt."

"Calm down for me sweetie, I will put you through to the ambulance service." A few moments later another female voice was speaking out to Dean.

"Can you tell me what's wrong son?"

"S-Sam. He w-wont wake up. His l-leg…" Dean was cut off by another bout of sobs, this time so bad that he ended up gagging and dry heaving.

"Try to calm down, can you tell me where you are?"

"M-motel."

"Which motel?" Dean began to panic, he didn't know. _Why do they keep asking me so many questions?_

"I d-don't k-know."

"Ok, is there anyone else with you, an adult who would know?"

"N-no."

"Can you tell me what you see outside?"

"A r-road and t-trees."

"Is there a football pitch opposite you?"

"Y-yes."

"Well done sweetie, I know where you are, an ambulance is on the way now."

"O-ok."

"Can you tell me what number room are you in?" Dean looked around, the room lurching as he tried to locate the key. When he finally spotted it he could see the number 6 engraved on a key chain.

"Six." Dean wiped his eyes as relief rushed through him, the room was spinning again, being zapped into oblivion having paid havoc with his body, and before he knew what was happening Dean had passed out, his head flopping down onto Sam's chest.

Two ambulance men were knocking on room number six of the motel, hammering with increased persistence and vigor when there was no response.

"Hello? Can anybody hear me? We are the ambulance crew from the hospital, can you let us in?" Again there was no response so the men, with a look of steely determination, began to kick the door until the hinges broke and the door swung open.

Thank God the hotel had not fixed very sturdy doors. The hinges were rusting to dirt which made their job a lot easier. The two men, one tall and tanned with long brown hair, the other shorter with a messy red mop of hair stepped forwards to see a man lying on his side on the floor with a tiny child unconscious on his chest. There was a long metal pole covered in blood lying on the floor beside them and by the looks of things it was the object that had pierced the man's leg. It was pretty clear that some veins had been badly damaged judging by the pooling blood on the floor, no wonder the man had passed out!

The shorter man went over to Dean and lifted him gently off of Sam, checking the child's vitals and deciding that he had fainted. The poor lad was covered in blood, the older man's blood, and looked as pale as a leaf. But at least he didn't seem to be injured. The older man was clearly a priority and the red headed ambulance man was so distracted by Sam's leg that he failed to notice the blood staining the sleeve of his jacket where Dean had been shot. He had assumed that the blood on the boys hand was from wrapping a bandage around Sam. He gently laid Dean into the recovery position and helped his fellow medic get Sam onto a stretcher, which was when an older man burst into the room, panting as if he had run a marathon.

"Are they alright?"

"Excuse me sir, but you will have to stand back. Are you a relation of these men?" Years of training as a hunter had taught Bobby to lie with ease. No-one could ever tell when he was lying and he even managed to fool himself on occasion.

"I'm Sam's dad, and Dean's grandpa. Now if you know what's good for you, you will tell me how my boys are."

"Both are unconscious but stable. Sam has sustained a deep wound to his leg but it has been bandaged well and looks as if it has stopped bleeding. Your grandson seems to be alright physically, he probably passed out from exhaustion or fright. It is nothing to worry about sir." Bobby grunted in response. He had only ever seen Dean pass out twice, once when he sustained three seventeen inch long gashes across his abdomen, and once when he had been thrown out of a three storey building by a poltergeist. When Bobby and John had found Dean with his left leg bent awkwardly, lying in a pool of blood they had been certain for an instant that Dean was dead. But Dean was strong, a fighter through and through. He had suffered from a severe concussion, four broken ribs and a badly broken leg, but he had not died. All of his other injuries, enough to make grown men break down and beg for morphine, were not enough to keep Dean down. Even as a child.

Bobby was convinced that the witch had used some strange mojo to knock him out. He carefully lifted Dean up and rested his 'grandson's' head on his shoulder and supported his back as the ambulance men carried Sam out.

Dean woke halfway to the hospital and promptly threw up over Bobby, not giving the ambulance staff enough warning to give him a kidney bowl. Bobby however, did not react. He simply began to sooth Dean, rubbing his abdomen in rhythmic circles in an attempt to sooth the young hunter, who was coughing weakly and dry heaving.

"S-"

"Shhhhh. He's alright Dean, he'll be ok. We are on the way to hospital, he lost a lot of blood but he will be right as rain soon. I promise." Dean nodded, but he had to see Sam himself. He squirmed off of Bobby's lap and half sat, half collapsed onto the bed Sam was resting on. Strange tubes were sticking out of Sam's arms and nose, and his leg was being elevated in some kind of sling. Dean allowed tears to cascade down his cheeks and did not even notice when Bobby gave his shoulder a reassuring squeeze.

"Dean, I am afraid you are going to have to sit back down." The man with long brown hair tried to lift Dean away from Sam and get him seated, safety first, but Dean began to kick and scream.

"No. No. I Want... No. Sammy!" Dean sobbed miserably, his arms flailing weakly against the strong hands that lifted him away. When he realised it was Bobby who was now holding him, Dean stopped struggling, instead staring at the older hunter, all wide green eyes and freckles.

"Stay calm Dean. Sam is fine, he is right there, settle down." Dean recognised this as a direct order and rested his forehead against Bobby's chest. The older man could feel Dean trembling violently and continued rubbing his back in soothing circles, his other hand cupping Dean's head and thumbing through his short hair.

It was clear that Dean had fully regressed into a child, the stress and trauma of the last few hours having deeply affected him. Bobby wondered how things had ended so badly, with Sam and Dean in such a state, but found himself relieved that the Winchesters had managed to kill the son-of-a-bitch before they were killed. Although the Winchesters had been in no fit state to tell him this, he knew there was no way that the boys would have escaped if the witch was still alive, so they had clearly won. The question was, had they managed to find a cure for Dean?

It had taken three pairs of hands; including Bobby to separate Dean from Sam's bed long enough to whisk the injured Winchester to the operating theatre, where after a tense couple of hours the surgeons revealed that there would be no permanent damage to Sam's leg.

Now, Dean was settled cross-legged on Sam's hospital bed, holding his sleeping brother's hand with his own uninjured one. Sam was blissfully unaware of his pain, completely out of it with pain meds. Dean's hand and arm were throbbing unbearably, but there was no way Dean was going to leave his brother's side for an instant. The nurses however, had other ideas.

"I'm sorry sweetie, but we need to check over your Daddy and make sure he is alright. Can you and your Granddad leave the room for a bit?" Dean stared at Bobby, who had just been attempting to sleep off all of the beer he had drunk at the lake.

"It's alright Dean. It won't take the nurses long, and then you can sit with Sam again." Dean shook his head as tears sprung to his eyes again. _I don't want to leave Sammy. I won't leave him. This is my fault; I should have protected him better._

Dean bent himself further over his brother's body and clung to him harder, fisting his hospital gown and refusing to let go.

"Dean." Bobby's voice had taken on a hint of warning, he didn't want to be too hard on him, he was in such a fragile mental state, but Sam needed to be checked over. A young nurse with long brown wavy hair, who Dean would normally hit on within an instant, walked over to Dean and attempted to reason with him.

"Why don't you come with me Dean? We can go and get some ice-cream if you like. We have chocolate…" The nurse was cut off by Dean's high pitched scream of pain. She had merely reached forward to take his hand and lead him away, but it was clear that this had caused the child a lot of pain. That scream was not a protestation about leaving his brother, it was a cry of agony which had left Dean curled up in a tiny ball, nursing his bad hand in his good one, rocking on the heels of his feet and trying to steady his breathing.

"Dean. Are you hurt?" Dean shook his head miserably at the sound of Bobby's voice and tried to hide his hand from sight, but Bobby took his wrist and pulled Dean's hand forward, unclenching the boy's fingers to reveal a deep, puffy gash which had caused his palm to swell to double its normal size.

"Why didn't you tell us Dean? The nurses will have to patch that up for you." Dean shook his head tried to get back to Sam, but this time Bobby was not standing for any nonsense. He scooped Dean up in one hand and nodded to the nurse, who guided the pair to the pediatric ward. Bobby allowed Dean to curl up on his lap as a doctor took a look at Dean's hand.

"You're doing well champ. Can you take off your jacket so I can take a better look and check for any other damage?" Dean looked pleadingly at Bobby, who ignored the look and gently pulled Dean's jacket and top off. That was when he and the doctor caught sight of the deep gash on Dean's arm from the bullet Sam had fired at the witch.

"Dean?!" Dean sniffled and tried to squirm away from the concerned faces surrounding him, blinking back more tears in an attempt to make it look as if his injuries were not a big deal. Two more nurses were called and Dean was laid gently down onto a bed, with Bobby holding his good hand and rubbing Dean's chest in circular motions.

"You might feel a little prick…" Dean, who had been trying to block out all the noise around him, it was giving him an unbearable headache, picked up on those six little words and flipped.

_Don't you fucking dare! If you think you are sticking some needle in me you have another thing coming. Just give me some booze. Bobby, don't you dare let them do that._

Dean tried to escape, clawing wildly at the air and screaming. Then he felt a painful jab in his arm and poison running through his veins. It was suddenly hard to keep his eyes open and the last thing Dean saw was Bobby's cap swimming in and out of focus in front of him.

When Dean awoke he struggled to open his eyes. His eyelids seemed to be far heavier than usual and his hand and arm had a strange tingling sensation.

"S'm." Dean could make out the vague shape of a person in front of him and tried to reach out for him, but couldn't muster the energy. He felt his eyes close again and soon the beeping of the monitors around him faded.

The first four times Dean had woken up, Bobby had watched over him hopefully, but Dean hadn't been able to keep his eyes open for more than a few seconds and it was clear that the boy was confused. It was the fifth time however, which tugged at Bobby's heartstrings.

"D-Daddy?" Dean had managed to peel his eyes open again and was staring at Bobby. One tiny hand raised up and reached for Bobby's face, finding his stubble and smiling softly.

"I'm here Dean." Bobby had no idea about what to do, but he couldn't bring himself to upset Dean so decided to play along with it.

"Daddy. L-love you."

"I love you too, Ace." Dean smiled and allowed himself to be cuddled close to Bobby's chest, where he soon fell asleep again.

When Dean finally woke up in a functional state, he sat bolt upright and stared around wearily, ready for someone or something to attack him.

"Sammy?" Dean blinked when the lights in his room turned on and he saw Bobby smiling at him comfortingly. The older hunter looked exhausted, but apart from that he seemed alright.

"I want S-Sammy."

"In the morning Dean, I will take you to Sammy first thing in the morning. You need to get some more sleep. How does your hand feel?"

"Fine…I want Sammy." Bobby sighed, they could keep going round in circles or he could take Dean to Sam. He knew Dean would not give in and sleep, the boy was so stubborn that Bobby was certain he would find a way to slam a revolving door if he put his mind to it. That was when a nurse walked in and smiled when she saw that Dean was awake.

"Morning sweetie. Are you feeling better?"

"Yes. I want Sammy." The nurse shook her head at the child and gently ruffled his hair, he was so cute and those eyes seemed to stare straight into her soul. It was ever so slightly disconcerting.

"You need some sleep sweetheart. You can see your dad later."

"Now." Dean crossed his arms and pouted, scowling in indignation, sticking out his bottom lip and pouting. Bobby had to admit that he looked, well, adorable.

"I think it would be best if you let me take him, Dean's a stubborn lad, and he'll get more rest once he knows Sam is alright." The nurse looked uncomfortable but eventually nodded, leaving the room and coming back a few minutes later with a wheelchair. Dean shook his head violently, an action that he regretted when he began to dry heave from the motion. Fugly witch!

"N-no. W-walk."

"You aren't strong enough to walk yet honey, the chair isn't so bad, it's quite fun if we go fast." The nurse winked at the child, it was policy not to wheel children quickly unless there was an emergency, but she was sure an exception could be made.

"No." Dean refused to comply and stood up on wobbly legs, making it a few paces towards the door before his legs buckled and completely gave up on him.

"You still have a lot of pain medication in your system Dean; you won't be able to walk all the way to your father's room. You either get wheeled to him or you stay there. I'm sorry but that's the rules." Dean finally admitted defeat and allowed Bobby to pick him up, but he clung tighter when Bobby tried to lower him into the wheelchair.

"Carry." Bobby sighed and exchanged looks with the nurse, who nodded and allowed Bobby to carry Dean into Sam's room.

Sam was sitting upright when they came in; he looked immensely agitated, his hair flopping over his eyes as he gesticulated frantically. It wasn't until Dean came in to view that Sam visibly relaxed, holding out his arms and cuddling his brother close when Dean slumped against him.

"Hey, hey, hey. It's ok Dean. I've got you, I would never leave you, you know that. Shhh. I've got you now. You're safe. I'm safe." Dean cried softly into Sam's chest, letting his brother know that Dean was still in a childlike state of mind. He had feared as much considering the fact that fear and pain usually triggered him, and seeing Sam passed out, bleeding and having to call an ambulance with an injured arm was certainly enough to put any four year old on edge. Even a four year old Winchester. Sam finally felt Dean go limp in his arms and felt his hitching breaths even out. He carefully wiped the tears from his brother's cheek and laid him down gently in bed by his side, wrapping a protective arm around Dean's tiny waist before turning his attention to Bobby.

"What's wrong with Dean's hand?"

"Same thing as you, damned pole. We think that he cut himself when he pulled it out; he did a good job cleaning you up. You're covered in bruises though, you idjit. What on earth happened?" Bobby hissed the last part as the nurse left the room.

"We found the witch in some old warehouse, then there was a fight, she got hold of Dean at one point so I shot her. I clipped his arm as well, shit, is his arm alright?"

"It's fine, took ages for us to find out though, he managed to cover up his injuries for hours. His arm is badly bruised, and there's the bullet wound and the cut on his hand, he also seems to have a concussion, when we found him he was unconscious. What happened? Dean never faints…too chick flick for him!"

"The witch used her mojo on him, touched his forehead and he dropped to the floor like a stone. Anyway, I got some old book with a counter spell off of her and shot her, but she had one last pop at my leg before checking out. A bit pathetic really, but I don't think she expected me to actually shoot. Probably relaxed her guard and assumed I would go all chick-flick with her, let her go, make friends and add her to the Christmas card list!"

"Right…a book? You didn't think to mention that earlier, am I surrounded by idjits?!"

"Um, yeah, sorry. Page 187.” Sam motioned to his jacket, which had been placed on the back of a nearby seat and watched as Bobby pulled a leather-bound book from one of the pockets. He quickly thumbed to the right page and lost himself in the instructions. It was written in Latin by the looks of things and Bobby thanked the stars for all the spare time he had put into learning languages.

"Piece of cake." Bobby closed the book and tucked it into his own pocket. "We can sort that out as soon as you are allowed out of here. In the meantime, get some rest and don't do anything I wouldn't do." With that Bobby retreated into a chair and was soon snoring, he really couldn't handle his booze as well as he used to. Sam laughed at the older hunter and allowed his own eyes to flutter shut, his leg didn't hurt at all but he was drugged up to the nines and could really do with a good night's sleep. Looking after Dean was exhausting work!

_How did Dean cope with me when I was a kid?_


	9. Chapter 9

It wasn't until 1 O'Clock the next day that the nurses discharged Dean and Sam, the latter with the aid of a crutch which was far too short for him, despite being the largest size, much to Dean's amusement. He had been far less happy an hour ago when the nurses had decided to prod and poke his hand and arm to check that he was healing well though, inside his head he let out a fair amount of choice swearwords, but verbally he only managed to squeak out a few feeble pleas for them to stop. He realised back at the supermarket that swearing as a child could lead to interrogation and Sam getting in trouble, so he forced himself to bite his tongue, metaphorically speaking considering he didn't want to cause himself any more pain.

On the plus side, he had been given a huge bowl of chocolate ice cream and the wound on his chest was no longer twinging at all. A definite plus. Apart from the fact that the pain had now shifted to his hand and arm. This was not quite so good.

When the nurses had finally deemed both Winchesters fit to go, Sam practically bounced out of bed before the nurses had a chance to change their minds. Although both brothers were trying to remain calm, Dean's desperation to be turned back to normal was announced by his overly twitchy behavior. He had been bobbing up and down excitedly all morning and on two occasions the nurse had been forced to sedate him in order to make Dean calm down and rest. And to stop him from annoying the other hospital residents by continuing his constant tapping.

Both brothers grinned when they escaped the hospital, their least favourite place to be other than hell, and they sat in the back of the Impala as Bobby drove them back to Pamela's house. Bobby had left the car he hotwired back at the motel, the police would find and return it at some point, if they were not busy being completely incompetent. The journey was silent apart from AC/DC playing in the background, but not even Dean was listening to the radio. For the first time ever he wished that he could reach his destination and spend less time in his baby.

Once again, before the Winchesters could knock the door flew open to reveal a grinning Pamela, clad in a leather jacket and another tight black top.

"Well, that went better than I expected. I am glad you only hurt your leg; it would have been the end of the world if that ass of yours got damaged."

"What, you mean you didn't see this coming?" Sam could not resist the dig, but felt immediately guilty so quickly softened the blow. "Um, thanks. I guess." Sam and Dean followed Pamela to the lounge, where she had a different cloth covered in a ring of strange markings. This time the sheet was a deep crimson which reminded Dean all too much of Sammy's blood. He cringed inwardly and turned his attention elsewhere.

There were also seven black, flickering candles spaced evenly around the table and Sam found himself wondering about their job being a fire hazard, salt and burns, candles…Concentrate Sam, your waffling on in your head… Sam's thoughts were interrupted by Pamela who was holding three bowls precariously. Sam didn't ask what was inside them; the smell was enough to inform him that he most definitely did not want to know. He just assumed that something had died to enter that bowl…Nice way to go...

"I guessed that you would want to get this over with quickly. Bobby told me what needed to be prepared; we are all set to go." The brothers nodded gratefully and took up the same seats as before, watching as Pamela began throwing different coloured powders and pastes into an empty bowl which she had set upon the cloth. Instantaneously, the entire bowl lit up with a purple flame and so much smoke was emitted that Dean began to cough, his eyes stinging.

Bobby and Sam soon began chanting, leaving Dean alone in idleness. He could feel a strange tingling in his fingers and looked down to see that his hands were shaking and seemed to be growing, although Dean could not tell if that was just the candlelight affecting his eyesight. Soon the irritating tingling turned into an unbearable burning sensation that reminded him of how the bowl had been set alight.

_A little help here guys…crashing and burning right now!_

Soon the agony hitched up a notch and Dean was certain that real flames were licking at his skin, no at his insides. The fire was roaring inside of him, his guts would soon be served up on a plate…extra crispy.

It took all of Dean's willpower to prevent himself from shouting out. As much as he wanted the pain to stop, he also wanted to be returned to normal, and therefore didn't want to interrupt the spell.

As the chanting grew louder Dean felt the room spinning around him, a feeling which was occurring far more often than Dean would like. The pain was almost unbearable now, and Dean found himself curling into a ball clutching his head and scratching his arms in an attempt to remain grounded and in control. He was fighting a loosing battle and soon moans and cries of pain were pulled from his mouth. Sam flinched at his brother's moans and whimpers, which soon turned into screams of intolerable agony. The distress on Dean's face just made Sam more determined to end all of this and he continued chanting out the last few words of the spell. This had better work…

The next thing Dean knew was a moment of blackness and a strange sensation of falling. He blinked and doubled over, now clutching his stomach and trying to work out why he was lying on the floor. Well, he assumed that that is where he was, as he now had a very nice view of the table legs and the wooden floor and hoped to god that he hadn't been shrunk.

Dean was vaguely aware of concerned voices somewhere in the distance, but he chose to ignore them. _I'm tired. I think I'll go to sleep now. The floor is comfier than it looks. Comfy…Sleep. Yes, that is a good idea._

Dean didn't even feel his body twitching and jerking as he began to drift asleep, and failed to notice the three pairs of hands attempted to still and rouse him.

…

"Sam!"

"What?"

"I think he's coming round."

"Dean?"

"DEAN!"

"Can you hear me?"

"Don't be an idjit boy, open your eyes!"

"Don't talk to my brother like that! He just had some kind of fit!"

"Calm it boys, don't wanna get any stress lines on that pretty face of yours Sam, do we?"

"SHUT UP!" Dean groaned and rolled onto his side, his whole body was on fire with a persistent ache and all of the others’ nattering in his ears was not helping the matter. At least the burning sensation had finally gone.

"Dean?"

"Yeah, what? A little busy here Sammy." Dean groaned deeply and gave his head a small shake in an attempt to make sense of himself lying on the floor. _Dammit my back is aching, couldn't have put me in a bed could they…no that would have been too much trouble…typical._ Hang on, my voice just sounded deep!

Dean scrambled to his feet and looked down at his hands, hands which were no longer completely tiny, although one was wrapped in bandages. Dean got to his feet and swayed slightly, gripping Sam;s shoulder briefly before stumbling towards the bathroom. He had to make sure that he was back to normal. Sam managed to hoist Dean into the bathroom and prop him against a sink, where he watched his older brother stare in the mirror for a good few minutes before his face split into a wide grin.

"Well hello there handsome!"

"Come on Dean, you've been back with us for less than a minute and you are back to your usual arrogant self! I thought you would be a bit subdued for at least five minutes!"

"Shut it Sasquatch!"

"Nice. Real mature Dean!"

"I can do what I want, I'm the oldest. Hell, I'm batman!"

"What the…that doesn't even make sense!"

"Whatever Robin, I'm amazing, anyway you started it…"

"Did not. You're the one who…"

"IDJITS, shut the hell up. Give a man a break." Dean and Sam whipped around with the expression of guilty children stealing from a cookie jar. "That's better. I can see that you are back to your usual self then Dean!"

"Uh, I guess I am. Aren't you all glad to have me back?" Dean shot the other hunters a stunning, white toothed grin and spent a moment rein-acting his happy-I-am-back-to-my-correct-age dance (one he had made up that time he was turned into an old man), waving his arms around like a loon before doing a high kick. Sam and Bobby tried to contain their laughter, but failed dismally. It was good to have Dean back, well, the right age again.

"Right, I think I have a lot of alcohol consumption to be making up for…" Sam knew this was Dean speak for, _‘I am in a lot of pain but wont admit it, therefore I am going to go and get stupidly drunk and pick up a hot chick.’_

"You sure that's wise Dean?"

"I'm not a child Sam!" Sam shot Dean an incredulous look. "What? I'm not a child _anymore_! Happy?"

"Ecstatic." Sam gave Dean a well warranted bitch face before grabbing his hoodie, shooting Bobby and Pamela exasperated looks and following his brother out of the front door.

"Anyway, I'm starving." Dean made it to his beloved Impala first and began to caress her bonnet gently.

"Don't worry Baby, I can drive you again now. I won't let Sammy treat you badly again…he is always too rough with your brakes! I know Baby, I know. Daddy's back." Sam rolled his eyes and pulled hauled himself into the passengers' seat, not deigning to mention that he had managed to drive Dean's ‘Baby’ back from the warehouse with a pole sticking out of his leg without so much as stalling!

 

 

Epilogue

Half an hour later and the three hunters and Pamela were sitting at a crappy diner, Dean was stuffing his face with a double bacon cheeseburger turbo with a large side of chilli cheese fries and extra onion rings, whilst Sammy was absentmindedly shaking his salad cup to mix in the salad cream.

"Oh, you shake it up baby."

"You think you're funny!" _God I have missed this!_

"I think I'm adorable!"

"Yeah, you were adorable when you were a four year old who couldn't bend my ear with sarcastic comments!"

"That was low!"

"Whatever. Anyway, are you feeling alright now?"

"No chick flick moments Sammy boy. I'm fine. Seriously."

"If you need to talk…"

"SAMMY!"

"Don't be a friggin jerk!"

"Bitch!" Dean grinned. _Yep, things are definitely back to normal._

When Dean had finally finished stuffing his face the hunters headed out to a bar, Sam being careful not to sit next to Pamela, which would probably result in a lot of unwanted attention. Dean was slouched on a bar stool, leaning against a bar and eyeing up a particularly stunning red-head, her curly hair trailing down to below her waist. Dean had his legs wide open in the classic Dean-trying-to-hook-up pose and his green eyes were trained on the woman's considerable breasts. No injuries were going to get in his way!

To no-ones surprise he was soon disappearing out of the bar with her, after giving Sam the thumbs up. In his eyes, being turned into a four year old had restored his innocence, and Dean Winchester was not going to stay a 'virgin' for long.

Sam however disagreed; there was no way that his brother could ever be described as sexually innocent, not after his track record.

As he watched his older brother slip out of the bar Sam sighed and stood up, leaving with Bobby and Pamela and heading back to her house. They wouldn't be seeing Dean until late tomorrow morning, that was for sure!

Maybe a younger Dean was easier to look after and keep an eye on after all…

_THE END_

**Author's Note:**

> So, I hope that you all enjoyed this :D I'd love to hear from you all, you know what to do!


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